Finding Earth
by Sable Cold
Summary: The Tau'ri have a part to play in things to come.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Neither Stargate SG-1 nor Battlestar Galactica is mine. Not intended for profit.

The Basestar rocked as Sonja rushed to what passed for CIC aboard a Cylon ship. She had been off duty in her quarters when the alarms sounded, reaching Command just as another conduit overloaded in a shower of sparks. An Eight quickly yielded her post as Sonja tapped into the datastream for a quick update.

It was bad. The Cylon Civil War had split the fleet down the middle. A fact that had kept Cavill from openly attacking their side. Now, an entrapment formation and the element of surprise had quickly tipped the odds in his favor. The Sixes, Eights and Twos were fighting back, but they had already lost more than Cavill had. It was only a matter of time. She opened a channel to the Rebels' flagship.

"We're not gonna make it Natalie, we have to jump out."

"I know," the de facto leader of the rebellion replied. "Our jump drives went offline in the first salvo. You will have to lead those who can still jump out of here."

"By your command." Sonja quickly polled the remaining Basestars for those still able to jump. A pitiful five out of the entire fleet acknowledged. _Six including our own_, Sonja winced as she transmitted emergency jump coordinates and gave the go signal for an immediate jump. One of the five that responded had its transmission cut as it exploded in a hail of suicidal lobotomized raiders. Still another one's strained primary systems gave out during the act of pouring power into the jump drives. Only four made it out.

"There goes another one," Cavill grimaced as another one of his own Basestars exploded. He'd taken the rebels by surprise, but the rebels did not give up easily. Sixes were known for being vicious fighters, and Eights, despite their naivete, had learned to fight from the Colonials. Fortunately, his own Basestars were being run entirely by Centurions. This far out from a Resurrection Ship, he dared not risk more of his brothers than absolutely necessary. Only the flagship had human form Cylons in its crew, and then only a handful at that.

"A small group of Rebel Basestars managed to jump out." Cavill frowned at Aaron Doral's announcement.

"Do you know where?"

"There was an encrypted transmission just before they jumped out. I'm trying to decode. There." The Five opened his eyes with a satisfied smirk. "I have their emergency jump coordinates."

"Good. Take a heavy raider out to Basestar 18, then take Basestars 17, 20, and 21. I've already issued recall orders for their raiders, they'll escort you in. You know what to do."

"By your command." The younger looking Cylon thumped his fist against his chest before marching out of the Command Center.

_Idiot. _Cavill watched the Five march out like a lobotomized centurion before turning his attention back to the battle. Two more rebel basestars had been destroyed during the course of their conversation. Not the flagship, unfortunately. "Now then, let's see who else we get to kill."

BSG SG1 BSG SG1 BSG SG1 BSG SG1 BSG SG1

The USAF General George Hammond lay cloaked in geosynchronous orbit over P3X-985. It was far from any of the worlds where the Lucian Alliance was typically active, nevertheless, it had been determined to follow the old axiom, better safe than sorry. And for the Tau'ri warship, safe meant either cloaked, or shielded _and visible. _After tangling with a flotilla of Lucian Alliance Hataks over Icarus, the warship was finally complete. Then, three Hataks had proved a challenge to the half-completed Battlecruiser. Now with all systems installed and/or repaired, it would take far more than three for the Hammond to even break a sweat.

The planet below had been one of the planets under the Asgard Protected Planets Treaties with the Goa'uld. With the Asgard gone, their legacy included custodianship of such worlds. Not that the Goa'uld were still around to threaten them, but the Galaxy at large was still far from safe. At the moment, the BC-304 was on its shakedown cruise. When most of your ship's systems came from four different technology bases, you took your time ironing out the kinks. And so, Homeworld Command decided it would be a good idea to check up on the Protected Planets on a regular basis. Apparently not all had Stargates, so a ship in need of a shakedown cruise was just the thing.

The Hammond's contact team had spent most of the past two days surveying and exploring the civilization on the planet below. Nothing impressive, its technology was on par with the Renaissance period on Earth. Lots of interesting ideas, but without the technology base yet to make the ideas practical. Col. Samantha Carter had just finished debriefing the contact team when the call came in from the bridge. Spatial distortions had been detected at the far edge of the system.

"Report." Sam said as soon as she stepped onto the bridge. Maj. Jennifer Hailey, who as lead for the contact team had been in the briefing room with her, made a beeline for the sensor station.

"Gravitational-spatial distortions," Hailey, pored over the sensor logs. "Looks like there were four. Extremely localized. Spheres no more than a click or two in diameter."

"You think it's safe?" Sam was to say the least, intrigued. "Not reading anything now, just four ships. No apparent residues of the previous event. We're detecting radio signals going back and forth among them, but that's it." Hailey nodded.

"Alright Marks, lay in a course for the far side of the nearest moon or planet away from them, then open a hyperspace window. Let's have a closer look."

The hyperspace window opened close to a small planetoid, away from any eyes on the alien ships who might see, and the Hammond emerged from it. Going immediately to cloak, the battlecruiser looped around the planetoid and moved closer to the four ships whose arrival had been heralded by spatial distortions.

"Four ships, varying degrees of damage. Residues consistent with nuclear detonations on the hulls... still trading radio signals back and forth... no shields detected... power output isn't that high considering their size, less than the Hammond... life signs... some look human... or close enough, anyway." Maj. Jennifer Hailey rattled off what the sensors were showing her as Col. Carter stood up and moved closer to the forward HUD/window. "Still nothing on the means they used to get here." She understood the Colonel's concern. If the alien ships had used some type of Faster Than Light drive to get here, others might also show up. And while this was quite a distance from the habitable planet where she'd spent the past two days, it wasn't really far away enough in extraplanetary terms. On one side, the FTL drive raised definite questions. Hyperspace was hardly the only means of FTL available, as the Destiny attested to. And the Atlantis had also demonstrated yet another type of FTL. Yet Hyperspace was by far the most common. Earth had had dealings with spacefaring races from four different galaxies and all had used Hyperspace. If the ships were friendly and willing to trade the technology, it could be a definite tactical advantage against their enemies. If they were friendly. If they were willing to trade. If Earth could duplicate the technology. So many ifs.

Then her Sensor board pinged. "I'm reading four more distortions. Now I've got four more marks. More ships, same configuration, launching what looks like... a fighter screen. Huh? Doesn't seem to be any life signs on the larger ships, but fighters are definitely showing life signs. Not human though. There you are, one life sign on one of the newcomers. Newcomers are moving into an encirclement formation... and they're firing. Conventional warheads." Jennifer frowned at her sensor board. "Plus some nukes. Estimated fifty megatons at the lowest." She looked at her Commanding Officer as Sam debated what to do. This was definitely a first contact situation. Except that whoever the aliens were, they seemed to be in the grip of a civil war.

Sam looked at the battle that had just ensued. The General George Hammond's priorities were clear. The habitable planet further in the system had to be protected. A nuclear shooting war between aliens within the same system went against that. She wondered briefly if there were any telescopes on the planet powerful enough to see this far out.

"Well, we definitely can't have that. Lower cloak, raise shields. And open up on all channels. Looks like they still use radio. I want to hail them."

Jennifer made the arrangements, then motioned to her CO. "You're on, Colonel."

"Attention unidentified vessels, this is the Tau'ri warship General George Hammond. You are fighting in protected space. Cease firing immediately and move out of this system. Take your fight elsewhere." Satisfied that the message was clear and short enough, Sam looked at Hailey. "Send that along with translations in all major dialects used by spacefaring races we are familiar with."

As Hailey followed Sam's instructions, Maj. Marks suddenly spoke out. "Spatial distortions off our bow. That was definitely an FTL jump. Several blips winked out from the vicinity of the second batch to suddenly appear close to us. Smaller blips though, fighters. That's strange, it looks like it transmitted a coded burst of some kind." Sam simply looked at him, puzzled. Marks turned back to his console, but did not elaborate further. "They're firing."

Sam frowned, but nevertheless, the reaction was immediate. "Railguns on point defense. Clear out the missiles, then clear out the fighters. I hate it when they do that." She quickly moved to sit on her command chair as the Hammond swung into action. "Helm, military thrust. Hailey, scramble with the Space Vampires squadron, but stay on the Hammond's six for now. Too many fighters for you to tangle with. We'll have to thin them out a bit first. Mixed anti-fighter and anti-capital ship loadouts." "Yes, ma'am," Hailey nodded then quickly trotted out of the bridge.

Sam scrutinised the HUD. It had now changed to reflect the tactical situation. The second batch of alien ships along with its fighter cover were now ringed with red icons for hostiles. The first batch, huddled together and clearly on the defensive, were still in neutral yellow. The 'hostiles' had the 'neutrals' in a pincer. They were spread out a bit, using their fighters to fill in their gaps. The Hammond was now coming in on one of the pincer claws, and fighters were clearly shifting to face the new threat. Hostile 4 was at the tip of one claw, the Hammond trained its Asgard batteries on Hostile 3 just behind it, slightly to the port on the Hammond's viewscreens. "Weapons, load fragmentation anti-fighter munitions on tubes one to four. Fire at will." Fragmentation anti-fighter missiles were recent adaptations of older techonology. Intended for enemies that used overwhelming fighter support, such as Wraith, it had never really been tested in combat conditions. Sam decided to use them now. The missiles arced out of the VLS tubes on the bow of the Hammond, then streaked out to the mass of fighters gathering to harass the Tau'ri warship. At a preset distance each missile then split into four, spreading out and continuing a ways before the warheads detonated by showering their forward arcs with shards of hypersonic shrapnel. For a capital ship, the shrapnel was only a minor inconvenience. For smaller targets such as unshielded shuttlecraft and fighters, it was lethal and it worked as intended. On the Hammond's HUD several of the smaller red circles winked out. The fighters themselves continued their previous course as a matter of inertia but now clearly with nobody on the helm anymore.

Meanwhile the Asgard batteries began carving into Hostile 3. The first beam stabbed right through the larger of the dorsal Y sections. A second beam gouged a deep gash through the central section. A third severed one of the shorter Y sections on the ventral side, and a fourth plunged back into the central section, this time piercing right through to the other side. The plasma beams tended to superheat any body of air it went through. In an open space such as a planetary atmosphere, the heat dissipated fairly quickly. In enclosed spaces such as the corridors of a starship, the corridors themselves would seemingly erupt in flames. One such eruption ruptured one of the tylium fuel lines. The affected ship died a fiery death. "Asgard batteries on Hostile 2. Keep railguns on point defense, pay attention to our six. Space Vampires, you are a go for Hostile 4. Jump behind the fighter cover and nuke it." Meanwhile, several of the enemy fighters had managed to get close to the Hammond, only to be killed by its railguns. Several more fighters began to mass, moving towards the Hammond as it bore down on Hostile 2. Whoever was in charge must have figured Hostile 4 was being ignored.

Hailey acknowledged Sam's orders then switched to squadron frequency. "Alright Vampires let's go. Setting course for hyperspace windows. And... jump." The 302's hyperspace window generator had already proved accurate enough to get within pointblank range of a target. It did so now. Within seconds Hailey and her squadron was ready bust the offending Hostile 4. "Arming tactical nukes... Fox fire one." Echoes called out on the squadron channel as others did the same. Hostile 4 was caught flatfooted. Its fighter screen was off chasing after the Hammond. As the 302's emerged from hyperspace at pointblank range, it could not intercept any of them. Eight miniature stars engulfed Hostile 4. Most impacted on the outer hull, which was admittedly, designed to withstand such strikes, though on a far smaller scale. Three however actually managed to penetrate past the outer hull. Hostile 4 was still visibly intact, if badly battered, but the resulting radiation and EMP shockwaves had killed everything on board, organic and cybernetic both.

"Shields down to 68 percent." Marks called out the status as the Hammond rocked from the hits. "Looks like Hostile 2 has taken notice. It's firing several spreads of larger anti-ship missiles." Sam pursed her lips. "Prioritise intercepting the anti-ship warheads for the railguns. Scramble the reserve fighters, Space Vampires should be on its way back."

And sure enough, Space Vampires was indeed on its way back. Maj. Hailey at the head of the formation saw the dogfights around the Hammond's stern first. "Oh look boys. Somebody's been taking potshots at the Hammond's tush." "I don't see anything, just roadkill." This from Space Vampire Two. Jennifer grinned, "Duly noted." As one the Space Vampires swooped in to their comrades' aid, clearing out the enemy fighters and quickly assuming escort positions aft and to the sides of the General George Hammond.

Moments later, it was over. Hostile 2 had fallen apart under the Asgard beams. The last remaining hostile had decided to cut and run. It along with its remaining fighters all disappeared in flashes of spatial distortions. Space was quiet as the Hammond banked to face the four that had arrived first.


	2. Chapter 1

Rating changed as per request. My first fic on this site, so I'm not quite sure about the differences yet. We'll see how this goes. Thanks for the reviews and encouragement, btw.

Neither Stargate:SG1 nor BSG:2003 is mine. If they were, the 4th season of BSG would have played out differently and they wouldn't have drawn lots the psychotic episode of the week.

Now, on with the story.

* * *

The universe is infinitely vast. It is also infinitely diverse. Apart from some basic laws, no single truism holds true for the entire universe. In one corner of the universe a band of humans desperately search for a way home, only to drift farther and farther away. In another corner of the universe another band of humans have no more homes to speak of, their homes burned in nuclear fire. In one corner of the universe humans played the dominant parts. In another, they were little more than cattle fit for harvesting. In one corner of the universe, the gods were dead and reviled. In another, though not necessarily alive, the gods are nevertheless invoked, prayed to, and called upon on a regular basis.

One such god was on the receiving end of prayers now. The baseship had lost primary power and life support long before the miniscule unknown ship had appeared seemingly out of empty space to broadcast its challenge on several wireless frequencies. The ship itself was curious. It was shaped somewhat like a miniaturised version of a Colonial battlestar, with a pair of pods at the sides analogous to a battlestar's flight pods. The forward section was elongated, and a control tower was perched on the dorsal side. No one had known what to make of its challenge, despite having been, as far as most could tell, repeated in several languages apparently known to the unidentified ship. The baseship's human form crew had by then evacuated to the heavy raiders, hesitant to launch yet due to the large numbers of raiders still on the prowl. Hands were on the datastream as they watched the feed from the baseship's still functioning external sensors.

At first they had pitied the small ship. The reaction from Cavill's forces was predictable. A formation of raiders had jumped out and opened fire with nuclear warheads. Pity turned to surprise at the ease with which the attack had been swatted away, then turned to disbelief as the smaller ship moved to counterattack. What had followed had been surreal. The unknown ship had fired a spread of missiles that efficiently cleared out an entire area of space of raiders. Then it struck at the baseships themselves. Blue-white beams alternated out from either side of the ship's bow to quickly eviscerate one offending baseship. Then it had seemingly turned its back on one baseship so it could face another, only for that baseship to be suddenly engulfed in several miniature suns. With so many nukes flying around no one had taken note of the radiological alarm. The gathered Cylons had wondered at how the nukes had been delivered until an Eight was able to pinpoint the eight dark shapes on the visual sensors, looping away from the dead basestar and back to the unknown ship. Fighters, again with curious designs. The flying wing configuration was strangely reminiscent of Cylon War era raiders. The cockpit layout however, and the triple engine design was closer to the Colonial vipers. Vaguely humanoid shapes were visible through the transparent canopies. It was barely visible on DRADIS, the dark color schemes made them difficult to spot in the dark background of space, and thermal imagers were next to useless in the midst of a nuclear shootout. The fighters raced back to their beleaguered ship, already being overwhelmed despite its efficient AA fire as more and more raiders converged on it. Yet another of the Eights pointed out that the small ship had already taken enough hits to cripple a battlestar. Nevertheless it had maintained its course, shrugging off missiles, suicidal lobotomised raiders, and, as the remaining enemy baseships began to take notice, ship to ship warheads. Dogfights between raiders and its own fighter complement were raging around its stern as it opened fire on the third baseship. With a different set of fighters to keep them busy, the raiders did not even notice the relatively fresh _squadron_ joining the furball until it was too late.

Less than a minute later, it was all over. The gathered Cylons had watched, awestruck, as the tiny ship cut another baseship to pieces with its energy weapons before the last one chose the better part of valor and jumped out. Then it had turned to face the huddled rebel ships. And stayed there, waiting. Their ships were damaged, two of them critical. Sonja did not want to risk offending this strangely small but powerful ship. She opened a channel, "Please do not open fire, we mean you no harm."

* * *

Contrary to what the Cylons thought, the USAF General George Hammond wasn't just "waiting". The scene at the bridge was one of controlled chaos as damage reports were collated and intelligence analysts pored over the sensor and communications logs. Sam had finally tracked down the "coded burst" Maj. Marks had mentioned at the start of the battle. A computer virus of some kind, though the fact that it was not written in any computer language she could understand and therefore neither could the Hammond's computers probably hadn't helped it much. Still, she transferred it into the Hammond network's DMZ. Some computer analysts on Earth would love to take a look at it once it was translated. Also, several intact samples of the enemy fighters had been beamed aboard for inspection, and Maj. Hailey had already brought her squadron in and was suiting up to join the rest of her contact team already aboard the remains of Hostile 4.

"Looks like we were too late for two of their ships." Maj. Marks was on the sensor console. "One's dead in the water, the other is showing power fluctuations." Then the comm station pinged. "We're being hailed."

"_Παρακαλώ μην ανοίξτε πυρ. Δεν έχουμε καμία εχθρική πρόθεση." _

Maj. Marks and his commanding officer exchanged glances. "Get Capt. Satterfield on the line."

Captain Satterfield was the Hammond's resident linguist. As Maj. Hailey's 2IC on the contact team, she was already on the basestar taking charge of the initial survey while Hailey got her squadron settled. This meant she was in charge of babysitting the "Three Stooges", her and Hailey's affectionate name for the trio of enlisteds who made up the rest of their contact team. So far they had a good haul. Several samples of "Terminators" tagged for beaming, and just now as they turned into a corner they found what appeared to be a hangar of some sort. With about a dozen shuttle craft of two distinct types. "Well, lookie right here," Corporal Matt Sanders exclaimed as he poked into what seemed to be an equipment locker. "What is it?" Satterfield moved closer. "Space suits, what looks like," the enlisted kept poking into the locker. "Way better than this junk we're using." The distaste was evident in his voice. The team was currently clad in Advanced Crew Escape Suits originally designed for NASA. It was red-orange and extremely bulky and unwieldy. Both minus points for seasoned special ops soldiers.

"Hammond to Capt. Satterfield," her comm unit chirped just as a flash of light announced the arrival of their team leader, Maj. Hailey, who then moved over to the NCO's for updates. "This is Satterfield, over."

"There she goes," Maj. Marks noted as the power fluctuations on his screen translated into a massive explosion of a dying alien ship. "Looks like they were able to evacuate," Sam observed, keeping her eyes on the HUD and the yellow blips that signified shuttlecraft of some kind. "Satterfield, are you ready?"

"All set ma'am, it's a variant of Myceneaean Greek so I should be able to translate. Just tell me what you want to say, over."

And so the parley proceeded with Satterfield acting as translator. Needless to say, the Cylons were surprised.

"_Please identify yourselves and your business in coming here."_

"_We are called Cylons. We are fleeing from a civil war. We jumped into this system at random."_

"_Any chance that your enemies will return and try again?"_

"_We do not know. They will be hunting us, but after this they will be wary of you. How is it that you can speak Ancient Kobolian? Are you the Thirteenth Tribe?"_

"_Friends and foes alike call us the Tau'ri. We are unfamiliar with the name Thirteenth Tribe. None of the other races we know call themselves that."_

"_There are other races in the galaxy? Are you human?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Can we send a delegation to your ship? Meet face to face?"_

…_(pause)..._

"_Yes."_

* * *

Up until a few years ago, Capt. Vanessa Satterfield considered her life relatively normal. Scholar parents traveled a lot, bringing her along. Gave her a good grasp of several languages, but not much of anything else. Joined the Air Force to pay for college. Language skills got noticed and got her into the (relatively) low risk job of translator. Got out of the Air Force, completed college with a degree in linguistics and anthropology, at which point she was approached by the Air Force to reenlist, this time as an officer through the Officer Training School. There was a top secret program in need of translators. Surprised and more than a little intrigued, she'd asked around. She still had some contacts after all, translators regularly hobnobbed with intelligence types, and if anybody had any idea what this "top secret program" was it would be them. The replies had her stumped. She was to report at Peterson Air Force Base after OTS. That was all they were cleared for. There were rumors of a couple of top secret outfits operating out of the Cheyenne Mountain facility, which was even more perplexing. What did the North American Air Defense Command need with translators? The rumors spoke of a "Deep Space Radar Telemetry" project and some kind of hardcore black ops unit. Some said they were one and the same, which was absurd. Why would a hardcore black ops unit masquerade as radar operators or vice versa? For that matter, why operate from underground? She never really figured the term undercover would be taken so seriously. And so realizing her questions had only drawn more questions, she'd finally let curiosity kill the cat. She completed OTS and following her orders finally ended up at the Stargate Command. Which as it turned out had both black ops and deep space telemetry functions. She had gotten in just in time for the first ever SGC offworld training course. Up until then, new SGC personnel only came with the skill sets they were recruited for. There were a couple of primers courtesy of some resident geeks but aside from that, new skills were acquired on the fly. It was then Second Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey who came up with the idea of a training program to instill some standard skills into prospective SGC recruits. The idea would allow geeks some much needed training in weapons and basic small unit tactics and at the same time give riflemen time to hit the books.

Fast forward a few years, the Goa'uld empire had fallen and the Ori threat neutralized. The current baddies were the Lucian Alliance, but unlike the open war that their predecessors in the SGC rogues' gallery had espoused, relations with them were more on the order of a cold war with occasional flareups. They knew better than to challenge Earth head on. And Earth to be honest had no idea how to root out something so widespread. Why was all this relevant? Because without an full-fledged war to occupy Earth's fledgling fleet of starships, some "enlightened" minds at the IOA had decreed that the same fleet be put to use in exploration and surveys. That meant contact teams based on the battlecruisers full time. Col. Carter had approached Hailey to lead the Hammond's. And Hailey had approached her to be linguist/anthropologist for the same.

All that brought her to this moment in time. Standing in the hatch leading into the port side flight pod waiting for same pod to finish repressurizing. The alien shuttlecraft had landed a few moments before. It was of the same design as another on the starboard side that they'd beamed over from Hostile 4. Finally the all clear was given, and she followed Col. Carter into the deck, a squad of armored infantrymen following behind her.

A childhood spent tramping across a dozen countries. Eight years spent exploring alien worlds. None of it had prepared her for the moment the aliens stepped out of their shuttlecraft. "I'll be damned," one of the troopers behind her muttered. It could have been the tall, gorgeous blond that first stepped out of the shuttle and was obviously taking the lead role for the delegation. It could have been the one just behind her and to the side. That one could have been the first blond's twin, except for the longer honey blond waves that contrasted with the first one's platinum curls. More likely it was the two that followed. Two women with familiar long dark hair, tanned complexions and almond shaped eyes. And surprised expressions. Not quite fazed by alien doubles of SGC officers, Col. Carter had simply turned to her and asked, "separated at birth?" Satterfield could only look at her helplessly.

* * *

Lieutenant General Jonathan J. "Jack" O'Neill was in his dress blues. Or rather, it should have been his dress blues. At the moment he had his jacket off, tie loosened, and cuffs and top two buttons undone as he laid back on his chair and put his feet up on his table. An unseemly posture for a three star general but he had the blinds down. He stared up at his ceiling then back down onto his desk. The intercom captured his gaze. He stabbed at it and paged the aide outside his office.

"I am not to be disturbed!"

"Yes sir," came the terse reply. Probably something to do with the fact that it was the third time in an hour that he'd done that. Jack sighed. He was venting on the poor aide and he knew it. He'd just been through perhaps the most painful meeting in his life. Involving both the Joint Chiefs and the IOA. The verdict had been preordained, but no less painful. The DSC-304 Daedalus class cruiser was easily the most powerful capital ship in four galaxies. Its Asgard designed primary weapons could cut through any and all opposition, up to and including the gargantuan Wraith Hiveships and formidable Ori warships. Hence, Earth did not really need to design a larger ship type. At least, not for the foreseeable future. The main reason its battles did not always go well was the appalling lack of support and escort ships. Research would have to go into expanding a 304's fighter complement without compromising endurance. And Earth needed more ship types. Smaller, not larger. The Goa'uld and the Jaffa and Lucian Alliance that had inherited their fleets had Al'kesh bombers to support their Hataks. Wraith had cruisers to support their Hiveships. Earth needed something similar. Less expensive ships that can be built in larger numbers. Space to develop and build prototypes was for the moment not an issue. With Atlantis not having enough juice to go anywhere at the moment, 304 production was for the meantime moved to three of the unused piers, allowing work on three ships at a time. When not building ships for the US, the original construction crews now served as advisers for international crews building ships funded and to be crewed by their respective governments. The arrangement had worked so far. It had allowed them to repair the damaged ships from the encounter with the ZPM powered Hive in record time. Now, primary hulls for the newest additions to Earth's growing fleet were almost complete. In batches of three, one was always to be crewed by the United States. The other two however, were for the IOA allies. The current batch was for the United Kingdom and the Russian Federation. The next two would be for France and Germany, with Australia and Canada to follow after. Naquadah to build these weren't an issue either. Thanks to Anubis' efforts large amounts of both unprocessed ore and recyclable scrap were present in the solar system.

Now for the painful part. As the lead service for the Homeworld Command, the Air Force shouldered most of the budget and resources it required. This coupled with current commitments to strategic partners, national security, the War on Terror, the Stargate Command, as well as various Earthbound and offworld installations, not to mention maintaining and expanding its current fleet of 302's and 304's, had the Air Force stretched painfully thin. It simply did not have the budget and resources to fund the development and building of another ship type. Somebody else would have to shoulder the cost. Someone with the resources to build ships. That's where the Navy came in. Under the terms of the agreement, the Navy would fund development and building of two new ship classes, as well as provide crews for 60% of the new ships. One would be a lightweight, high speed reconnaissance and patrol craft, while the other would be a medium weight escort craft. As part of the agreement, the Navy asked for control of the latest 304. Jack gritted his teeth just thinking about it. _They better not name it the Enterprise. The Air Force should have named their first 304 the Enterprise when they had the chance. Damned if the Navy was gonna use that name for theirs._

On the bright side, now the Air Force can finally use some of the funds for developing the next generation space superiority fighter. The 302 generally ruled whatever patch of space it could lay claim to, but it had its limitations. Ever since Col. Sheppard had brought home that first captured Wraith Dart, the Air Force had been imagining the possibilities. Now they would finally be able to go ahead with research for a newer, more compact space fighter. One that could remote dial and fly through stargates. But that was a problem for another time.

His intercom buzzed, and he frowned at it just as the message came through. "Col. Carter on subspace channel." "On my way," Jack replied as he fixed his uniform and moved to the outer area. Sure enough Sam Carter's face was on the subspace communications screen.

"Report."

"General, sir, at approximately 1400 hours Zulu time we made contact with another space faring race. They call themselves Cylons and appear to have originally been machines manufactured for purposes of labor and war, sir. They eventually rebelled against their creators though they seem to be deliberately vague as to what ultimately happened to these creators, sir. Their current form is that of synthetic human-like clones, a few times stronger and faster than the norm. According to them there are seven basic templates. They seem to currently be in a state of civil war over the status of some mechanical models they still use. In fact we made contact when they jumped into the vicinity of P3X-985 and started shooting at each other. We stopped them, since the battle was beginning to drift towards the inhabited planet deeper into the system, but I'm afraid we had to use lethal force, sir. One faction cut and run, while the other met with us and exchanged cultural information."

"Terminators, huh. Where are they from?"

"They claim to be originally from the planet Kobol, sir. Two thousand years ago, their creators left Kobol and colonized what they now call the Cyrannus system, then around 40 years ago created them. According to them, sir, the Cyrannus system has been abandoned and they are searching for the descendants of those original colonizers, now called Colonials. Also according to them, both they and the Colonials are searching for Earth. We haven't told them our connection to Earth yet. For now, we are just the Tau'ri to them. We are sending a data burst containing our logs as well as our findings on the samples of technology we managed to acquire."

"What can you say about their technology?"

"Aside from spacegoing technologies, they seem to be at par with us, sir. Hailey's team recovered several samples of handguns and rifles fairly similar to ours. They seem to have a love for missiles in space combat. Both conventional and nuclear warheads. Coilguns, artificial gravity, inertial dampeners, though not as efficient as the ones we use. They seem to have better space suits though."

"Allright, what do you plan to do now?"

"We managed to acquire a shuttlecraft that does not seem to be from the same technology base as the ships these Cylons use, sir. We think it's Colonial. It appears capable of FTL, though not the usual means we're familiar with. We hope to decipher and translate its logs. See what else we can find, maybe even locate the Colonials. Make contact with them first, sir."

"See what the deal is from their side of the story, that's good. Need anything from this end?"

"If we could send a ship, sir, I'd recommend investigating the Cyrannus and Kobol systems. Hailey thinks she's found some starcharts, though we'd still have to match them with ours. Might be something else for us to find. Also I might need some backup on the cultural side, sir."

"I think we can spare the Odyssey and maybe even SG-1, the new team. Though I'd have to check with Hank for that. I can give you Daniel. If you give a gate address where you'll pick him up, that will be fine. And one other thing, send Marks back, he has a new assignment. Anything else?"

"Will do, sir. P3X-985 should be fine. We managed to uncover the Stargate there. We'll stay in system a bit longer, make sure the Cylons don't come back. That should be it for now, sir. I'll be sending Maj. Marks along. Hammond out."

* * *

_When the time is right, you will remember. _Maj. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace's eyes flashed open. She'd been dreaming the same dream she'd been having over and over for the past several weeks. But the dream had not been something she could recall upon waking. She had a feeling it was important though. She was currently on her bunk on the Demetrius, almost 3 weeks into the mission. Already the air on the small ship stank of discontent. The handpicked crew she'd brought along was beginning to think her crazy. She wasn't even sure she would disagree. Around her bunk were several hand drawn sketches. Most were dominated by a figure composed of three comets side by side, the middle one slightly ahead of the other two. The other motif common on these were a pair of stars hanging side by side in space.


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews, sorry it took so long to update. Not sure what you mean by evil word blocks, Darksnider. Should I shorten my paragraphs?

Disclaimer: Neither Stargate SG:1 nor Battlestar Galactica is mine. If it were, BSG would have laid off the metaphysical crap.

* * *

Fate never quite behaves the way one thinks it will. What was asked for sometimes may never be received. But sometimes what is gained is far more than what is asked for. Some know what to do with it. Some don't even realize what was gained. Some are just plain in over their heads.

The mood in the Heavy Raider was understandably tense as it awaited landing instructions. Who were these Tauri, and how could they be so powerful? Were they somehow related to the Thirteenth Tribe that they sought? No question had a clear cut answer that they could divine. Each question only yielded more questions. They obviously understood and spoke textbook Ancient Kobolian, yet they claimed not to know of any race who called themselves the Thirteenth Tribe. Did not even give any indication that they knew of Kobol. Leoben had tried listening to the Hybrid for some clue as to who they were, but that had not been particularly helpful. The Hybrid had indicated unambiguously that they are _NOT the Thirteenth we seek_. Then went on to ramble about how they were _the Firstborn_, and _from the world that the Thirteenth sought and established_. _End of line._ Leoben was totally lost.

Finally the Heavy Raider entered the brightly lit flight pod. It was a simple affair. Large baydoors served as both entrance and exit. The entire flight pod had only a single level, and they could see the Tauri fighters parked in berths towards the rear. There was not a single Tauri in sight, and there was no atmosphere in the flight pod. Just empty vacuum. Idly, Sonja wondered if they performed launch operations in vacuum, before setting the Heavy Raider down. They were to await instructions to disembark, presumably once the chamber was repressurized.

Finally they received the all clear, and a hatch off to one side of the flight pod opened. Just as the hatch on the Heavy Raider opened, several Tauri stepped out. Humans, by the looks of them, dressed in rather simple coveralls. Two women took the lead, an armed squad, marines or their equivalent, filing in behind them. The taller blonde woman had her long hair in a simple braid. Despite her kind smile, there was an unmistakable air of command about her. Was she the commander of this ship?

The other woman in the Tauri party was what had the Cylon delegation stopping short. Incredibly she looked like an Eight, but no Cylon had ever been posted this far coreward. No Cylon had even ventured this far coreward, let alone gain a position of obvious importance to an unknown faction. It was she who stepped forward and spoke.

"Welcome aboard the _General George Hammond, _or the _Hammond_ as we call her. I am Captain Vanessa Satterfield, this is my superior Colonel Samantha Carter. If you will follow us, we have prepared a conference room where we can discuss the issues at hand."

* * *

On board the Demetrious, trouble was brewing. Kara Thrace had just made another course correction. Everybody thought that she was becoming increasingly erratic. Kara had always been unconventional, always been unpredictable. But this was taking it to an entirely new level. Helo and Longshot were hard put to calm everyone down, but could not really offer any alternative except follow orders.

* * *

"It is amazing how much you look like an Eight". Sonja marveled. They had settled into the conference room, and the discussion had quickly turned to the resemblance between the Tauri officer and the Eights.

"It is a surprise, but I'm pretty sure I never went away from my home planet as a child. This is my first time this far rimward." Satterfield calmly answered after giving Sam a quick translation. Sam had just nodded, then proposed her own theory.

"An accident of genetics, most likely. There are only so many combinations, a limited number of permutations of physical features. Without taking into account other genetic traits, it was bound to happen eventually, given the number of human and human related races in the galaxy."

Upon hearing this translated, Sonja, the lead Cylon delegate, perked up. "You mean these other human _races_ further into the galactic core? Are they as advanced as you? And what do you mean by human related?."

"Early in our planet's history an interstellar race of parasites took several human populations and scattered them all throughout the galaxy." Satterfield began the familiar tale. The Cylons listened intently. Nodding in some places, shaking their heads in others. As the story dragged on though, Sam began to realize they were increasingly in disagreement with the details Satterfield was relating. It seemed to clash with a certain set of core beliefs they held.

Finally, Leoben could no longer contain himself. "So you are saying that all the humans in the galaxy are descendants of people taken from your world? Are you from Kobol? Are you the thirteenth tribe? And why do you now call yourselves the Tauri? Are you related to Taurus?" He did not even bother touching on the Stargate. Despite it having figured prominently in what the Tauri said, it was simply too fantastic. A gateway that took you to other worlds. Ridiculous.

"All humans in the galaxy are descendants of people taken from our world. That is why they call us the Tauri. It means the people of the first world. The word is not related to Taurus. We have never heard of this Kobol or its thirteen tribes." Satterfield spoke with the practiced patience of one who had dealt before with people whose entire sense of history was being challenged.

"Kobol is the home of humanity." One of the Eights began. "Thousands of years ago, humans lived with the Gods." The other Cylons quieted down as she continued her story. Sam listened as Satterfield kept up a running translation of the narrative. Despite listening to a second hand account that was probably mistranslated in some places, she began to see gaps in the story. Gaps that told her it was not entirely the paradise it was being made out to be.

"So the twelve tribes settled in the Cyrannus system. Where is Kobol anyway, and where do the Cylons come in?" Satterfield relayed the question her CO posed.

"We can give you the coordinates to Kobol. It is in our nav computers and there's really no harm for us in it, though it is said that anybody setting foot on Kobol will have to pay a price in blood. Go there at your own risk." Sonja began. "The Cylon story began over forty years ago, when a man named Daniel Graystone created the first Cybernetic Lifeform Node. Or Cylon." She told of how the first Cylons were over time integrated into all aspects of Colonial life. First serving as menial labor, they eventually were pressed into military service in the various internecine wars of the Twelve Colonies. "It was not long before they gained sentience and decided to wage war on their human masters. Eventually both sides agreed to an armistice."

"So where are the Colonials now?" Satterfield asked the question without Sam's prompting.

The Cylons looked at each other, before the other Eight spoke. "Their civilization has fallen. They are slowly making their way coreward. We hope to eventually make peace with them. But the other faction in the Cylon Civil War led us into a trap. They will not be interested in peace with the Colonials."

"If you don't mind our asking, how did your Civil War start?" Satterfield's curiosity got the better of her, though Sam also wanted to know.

The Cylons looked among themselves, then the others all turned to Sonja. As the expedition lead she drew the short straw. Drawing a deep breath, she related the more recent and painful history. She spoke of the 12 Cylon models, of how the final five had yet to be revealed, and of how D'anna had finally found a means to discover their identities, only to be boxed at the behest of the One called Cavill. She told how Cavill had lured them with the promise of unboxing D'anna, only to ambush them.

Sam and Satterfield looked at each other, then Sam whispered a question for Satterfield to translate. "They lured you out into deep space to kill you?"

"Out of range of the resurrection ships. That way our deaths would be final."

That piqued Satterfield's curiosity. "Resurrection?"

Sonja explained how resurrection worked, that D'anna was in a _Resurrection Hub_. Sam and Satterfield looked at each other, then Sam asked, "what will you do now?"

"Send a ship back to the site of the battle. Search for survivors, then see if we can find the Colonials and propose peace."

"You have small ships capable of FTL?" Satterfield figured they would not use the larger Baseship for a recon mission like that.

"All of our ships are, though we will probably be sending a captured Colonial Raptor. It's an older design, but very versatile, with topnotch electronic countermeasures. May we have your permission to stay in this system for a few hours while we conduct repairs and await the result of such a mission?"

Satterfield relayed the question to Sam and the older woman pursed her lips in thought, before giving her answer. "We see no harm in it, but there are two conditions. First you are not to venture deeper into the system. Stay within this immediate region. Second, tell us more about how your FTL works."

* * *

Cally Tyrol was in a daze. How could it have gone wrong? Her husband was a Cylon. The ship's XO was a Cylon. The President's Chief of Staff was a Cylon. It was unreal. Who else could be a Cylon?. Where there more? She was in a viper launch tube, not knowing what to do or where to go. Why would Galen need to keep up the pretense if he was obviously carrying on with someone of his own kind? Then she happened to look out the viewport. This was one of the few launch tubes with one of those, and it suddenly was all clear. The Cylons had fertility issues. She knew this from Starbuck's experiences on Caprica. Galen must think Nicky was his. That was why he continued the charade. She couldn't take it anymore, but she couldn't leave Nicky to be cared for by Cylons either. Everything was numb as she opened the panel and slipped the key in. A few buttons and there, the manual control was a comforting green light.

"Cally!" Tory had found her.

Cally rounded on Tory and screamed at her, "Stay the frak away from me! I know what you are. I know what all of you are."

Tory stayed calm. "How could you? We don't even know what we are."

Cally was clearly now at her limit. "I heard you. You're Cylons! Bunch of frakking skinjobs."

"I wish it were that simple.." Tory sighed.

Cally wouldn't fall for the act. Cylons were machines. "You stay away from me." She then turned the key and closed the airlock behind Tory. "Guess you better hope there's a spare body waiting for you."

"You wanna kill me?" Tory spread her arms out to her sides. "Go ahead. Don't do this to yourself, or to your child, to Nicky."

"Get the frak away from me, you're not getting your hands on my son! Not you, not Galen, he frakking used me." Cally had by now lost all calm and was hysterical.

"He didn't know. None of us did. we didn't find out until we entered that nebula." Tory didn't give up.

Cally didn't want to listen, didn't want to care. "Oh, shut the frak up, traitor! Frak!"

"All we know is that we're Cylons. But in every other way, we're still the same people." Tory insisted.

"You're frakkin' machines!" Cally screamed out the major difference.

Tory looked at her hands. "I don't know. But I do know that we're not evil. We're not inhuman. And we're just as scared and confused as you are."

"I can't live like this! It's a frakkin' nightmare."

"You don't want to do this, Cally. He's your son." Tears were beginning to show in Tory's eyes.

The tears convinced Cally. Unthinking machines couldn't cry. "What have I done? I'm so sorry. Oh, Gods." Nicky was by now crying out loud. Cally tried to comfort her as Tory moved closer to touch her shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay, Nicky. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay." Cally cooed.

"Let's just get out of here. It's okay. We'll work this out together. It's okay."

"Okay," Cally agreed. Standing up and handing Nicky over as she cries some more. With Nicky safely in hand, Tory quickly backhanded Cally and knocked her out.

This was giving Tory a rush. Cally's death was regrettable, but there was no way around it. Cally was breaking down. She knew this from her conversations with Galen. Tory had managed to calm her down now, but it would not have been the last time. Simply put Cally was a liability. They could not afford to have their secret come out at this critical juncture. They would be lucky if they were thrown into the brig with the Six if that happened. All of them were public figures. The widespread feeling of betrayal would probably lead to a lynching. As Cally pointed out, it was by no means a certainty that a resurrection ship would be in range. And Tory would rather stay alive, thank you very much.

Thus Tory had not been particularly concerned when she found Cally about to toss herself out the airlock. The problem was she intended to take Nicky with her. Cally's suicide would have been convenient. The death of a half-Cylon boy however, would have been unacceptable. And so she had intervened. Now that Nicky was safe, Cally could get on with the business of getting spaced.

In the airlock, Cally was beginning to stir. Just in time, too. Just as she saw Tory through the window, Tory slapped her palm down on the release.

* * *

"That went well," Capt. Satterfield commented as the Cylon Baseships started moving away.

Col. Carter could only agree. It had gone smoothly. The Cylons were understandably apprehensive at the overwhelming power the Hammond had displayed. This more than anything else ensured their good behavior. There was also the matter of Capt. Satterfield apparently having several thousand clones running around. Once it was ascertained that the similarity was a mere fluke, they had quickly moved on to more important things.

Things like the presence of a spacefaring race out on the galactic rim. Things like that same spacefaring race having been laid low and now slowly making their way coreward. Although it had been immediately obvious that the Cylons had had something to do with the downfall of their creators, they were reluctant to discuss it at large. The only assurance they could give was that hostilities against these "Colonials" was no longer on their agenda, but was still a priority for the other side of the Cylon civil war.

"That was interesting", Maj. Hailey remarked as the Baseships winked out of local space.

"What did our sensors show?" Col. Carter didn't bother hiding her fascination. The Cylon means of Faster than light travel showed promise. She couldn't wait to get a team and examine the wreckage of the dead Baseships. There were also the smaller craft currently sitting in the starboard flight pod. Carefully placed away from where the Cylons could see them.

"In real space their means of propulsion gives off the same type of energy emissions that a Ha'tak does. Far less efficient though." Sam frowned at this reference to technology they had seen before. It did not add up and would be put on the table for further investigation. "What about FTL?" She asked instead. The Cylons weren't even sure how their FTL worked. They had apparently inherited the design from the Colonials, adding enhancements to take advantage of their better computational abilities, but for all of their skill the FTL drive itself was still something of a black box.

"That is an entirely different matter. I wasn't sure before but now I am. It's a point to point wormhole, sir."

"I didn't think you could survive wormhole travel without shields, sir," Satterfield was the first to comment.

"No you can't, the stresses would be directly proportional to the size of the object that's being moved. They have to have shields. That is what we saw, isn't it?" Carter now looked back to Hailey for confirmation from the sensors.

"Yes, sir. They threw up shields for a split second before jumping. In fact that's probably where the bright flash comes from. Shields meeting the wormhole's event horizon. I don't think they even realize what they were doing. It was fairly low power. Based on the size of the Baseships I don't think they were intended to last more than a split second. Only long enough to get them through the wormhole, sir."

"What about power? You've shown me the numbers. They don't generate nearly enough power to generate shields, and a wormhole at the same time."

"No they don't, sir. It looks like they took the power from a secondary capacitor bank of some sort. I was watching the sensors the whole time. Their power levels never changed. Not from the moment they got here all throughout all the fighting. Then it suddenly spiked to generate the wormhole and shields. My guess is they have a backup battery or capacitor of some sort that they use to store the power for FTL operations. Their normal powerplant can't supply enough power to do it, so they run the power into the battery until it has enough. No way of knowing how many times they can jump before needing to recharge, sir."

"One other thing, sir." Sam nodded for Hailey to continue.

"Since we detected the exit point of the wormhole as a spatial distortion when they first got here, I tried checking on the long range sensors if we could see both ends of the wormhole. We have the origination points for two wormholes right here, and the corresponding spatial distortions were as expected. They didn't jump very far. Around ten lightyears out, we registered a couple of spatial distortions at the exact same time that the Baseships jumped out of here."

"I see. Keep an eye on the long range sensors. Tell me if they jump again. Comms, get me Homeworld Command on subspace."


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews and encouragements. Happy new year everyone!

Disclaimers: It ain't mine 'coz if it were, Billy would have lived and Dualla would've ended up with him. And he'd have given her less grief too.

The Hammond hung in the fringes of the system that included P3X-985. It was the third day after First Contact with the Cylons. The Cylon ships had stayed for a few hours, until their recon mission came back to report the battle was over and that there were survivors at the site. In three days they had not returned. By all indications, they had stayed at the site of the battle. Long range sensors had been kept pointed in the direction of the battlefield and had not detected any spatial anomalies to indicate they had left. The Hammond for itself had spent the past three days sending teams to investigate the wreckage of the "Baseships" as the Cylons called them. Science teams were requested and received via Stargate to assist. Col. Carter personally led the investigation of the jumpdrives both on the destroyed Baseships and the recovered Raptor and Heavy Raider. Maj. Hailey she placed in charge of investigating the means of propulsion the Cylons and the Colonial Raptor used. Daniel Jackson had arrived with the science teams and had sequestered himself with Capt. Satterfield reviewing all the information they had on the Cylons, the Colonials and the language_s_ they used. Everyone worked as hard as they could. A feeling was in the air. As if the universe was waiting on baited breath. That this was only the beginning.

* * *

The last fires had been put out. All those that could be rescued had already been rescued. Whatever could be repaired had been repaired. The toll was horrendous. Almost 70% of their number had died. Without Resurrection those deaths were final. Of their fleet only two functioning Baseships remained. The leaders of the Cylon Rebellion had now gathered, their thoughts deep in the datastream as they deliberated. It was time to reach a consensus as to what to do next. There weren't a lot of options.

Cavill's losses, while not insubstantial, were still far less than theirs. Five of his Baseships had been seen limping away from the battle more or less on their own power. With control of The Colony he had the resources to rebuild his fleet over time. More importantly, he still had resurrection technology. He could easily replace whatever losses in manpower he had. If he did lose any. Knowing Cavill he'd have risked as little of his humanform crews as possible.

Cavill would no doubt hunt them down. The only way against this was to remove at least one of his advantages. Either take the Colony or the Resurrection Hub. Either goal was unattainable with their current resources. Allies were desperately needed.

The most obvious one of course, were the Colonials. They would understand the ramifications of Cavill running rampant without a need for consensus to restrain him. Athena had gained a measure of their respect and could attest to it. The problem, of course was getting to the Colonials without getting shot at.

The new aliens Sonja encountered, these Tauri, were the other option. The Tauri presented quite the puzzle. So many unanswered questions. It was hard to tell whether they would even be sympathetic, as they had shown rather convincingly that they could take anything Cavill could throw at them and pay him back. With interest. On the other hand they did seem to take matters of security seriously. Many had noted that the Tauri did not actually claim the system where they were first encountered in as theirs. Only that it was "under their protection".

* * *

Sam happened to be in the Bridge when the Hyperspace window opened. "Reading IFF," the comm officer on station chimed out. "It's the Odyssey. They've detected us and are moving closer." Sam simply nodded. The Odyssey had opened its window close to P3X-985 deeper into the system. It would take them a few minutes to get to where the Hammond was.

"We're being hailed." Sam motioned to put the communication from the Odyssey up on a screen.

"Colonel Gant, congratulations on the new command." She greeted the newly minted battlecruiser commander as soon as her face came up. "Thank you," the other Colonel replied. It was the other two officers flanking her that Sam had not expected. "Cam, Paul, this is a surprise."

It was Colonel Paul Davis who spoke up. "Sam, could you and some of your officers ring over for a quick conference? We should be at your coordinates in five minutes. Please bring Dr. Jackson."

Sam just shrugged. "Five minutes it is, then. I'll have my team and Daniel ready."

* * *

"Third time's the charm maybe." Starbuck smiled. She could feel it. It was very close.

Helo was not so sure. This was the worst he'd seen Starbuck get. On the one hand she had never seemed so sure before. On the other, this was an area they had already surveyed twice. And that smile had never looked so..._ insane_.

He sighed as Starbuck bent down to the floor to scribble some calculations on a notebook. This whole trip was built on nothing more than Starbuck's hunches. "Alright, I'll have Sharon prep to go as soon as Anders gets back from his scout." This seemed to catch her attention and she got up on her feet.

"Hey." Helo was genuinely concerned now. Starbuck seemed to be literally on the edge. On the edge of what, he was not really sure, nor did he really want to find out. "What about you? You been getting any sleep?"

"I duh - I don't know." Starbuck shrugged. Helo shifted at the non-answer. "It was so clear when I first got back." Starbuck elaborated as she turned and moved back closer to the bulkhead and the image she had painted there. It was a beautiful painting. A red planet, with a pair of stars in one corner. A comet made it's way across the lower half just under the rings common to most gas giants. "If I could... If I could just focus, I know that I can find that sound again."

Helo looked sadly at her and glanced around the room before looking down. He had unconsciously crossed his arms during Starbuck's explanation. "I gotta go see the CAP off," he declared, uncrossing his arms. After pausing he continued, "We'll talk when I get back." Hopefully she'd forget about this and be more rational by then. That was usually how insanity worked.

"Hold up." Starbuck stopped him before he could get out. "I think I'll go with you on this one." She was already sitting at the edge of bunk putting her boots on.

Helo's face assumed a look of uncertainty. "You haven't flown a CAP since we left the Fleet." He reminded her, trying to be patient.

Starbuck simply grinned at him. "I think I'll go with you on this one," she repeated.

* * *

The bright light of the ring platform flashed and Sam found herself and her officers in the familiar corridors of the Odyssey. A junior officer greeted them and directed them to conference room. Not that Sam couldn't have found it on her own. The Odyssey had been around longer than those 2nd Lieutenant's bars. And she knew every inch of it.

Presently they were all seated around the long conference table. Paul was presiding over the briefing.

"According to the information Col. Carter managed to get from First Contact with the Cylons, this was where the Colonials were last encountered in force." The Lagoon nebula was encircled in green.

"The other points of interest are Kobol itself, the so called home of the gods," a green spot lit up on the starmap, "and we believe the Colonial home system to be in this vicinity." A green area out on the rim was shaded. "This is Earth." A white spot came on, "and as you'll see..."

Cyrannus, Kobol and the Lagoon nebula all lay in a more or less straight line. That line missed Earth by a few millimeters on the starmap. A few millimeters translated into roughly a few thousand lightyears. "Whoa," Cam exclaimed. "You're saying these Colonials and Cylons somehow found a fairly accurate way of getting to Earth, and they found it out on the rim?."

"They are definitely headed in the right direction," Paul nodded. "But that is not our problem. Even if they do get that close, we're still talking about a few million cubic lightyears of space. And even if they do get to Earth and prove unreasonable or belligerent, we have no doubt that whatever assets we currently have on Earth will prove sufficient to deal with them."

"Our major cause for concern, is this." Paul pressed a button, and the starmap was bathed in more colors. It took a few seconds for everyone to process, but then everything was apparent. Earth and its offworld sites were represented by white dots. Varying shades of blue marked inhabited planets that Earth had made contact and had cordial relations with. Argos, Cimmeria and Madrona were barely past subsistence agriculture. They were marked in pale blue. Langara and Tegalus were relatively industrialised, and still recovering from damages sustained during the Ori Crusade. These were a slightly darker tinge of blue. Tagrea and Galar had recently launched space stations into their respective orbits and were slowly gaining technologies through their respective Stargate programs. Pangar and Orban had recently partnered with the goal of developing Faster than Light travel. These were a slightly darker hue than Langara and Tegalus. The Tok'ra territory was slightly spinward and slightly rimward. The Hebridans were slightly more remote in the opposite anti-spinward direction. Holdings of both spacefaring races were in the darkest blue. The Free Jaffa, due to their size and occasional belligerence, were an entirely different shade of purple. Limited by the hyperspace capabilities of their ships, their territory was mostly confined within the Galactic core. Interspersed around their territory were several splashes of red. Lucian Alliance territories. The Free Jaffa for now considered them beneath their notice so long as they stayed away from Jaffa occupied worlds, and the Lucian Alliance knew better than to attract the interest of the most extensive fleet in the known galaxy. Both the Tok'ra and the Tau'ri recognised the danger they could eventually pose though, and had been waging shadow wars to keep them in check. One disturbing slash of red looped around Earth's holdings and across the Colonials' projected path.

"Homeworld Command has therefore determined our mission objectives. We are to make contact with the Colonial Fleet. SG-1 is to assist Dr. Jackson in establishing friendly relations, I will act as senior mission commander and military liaison once, or should I say if, friendly relations are established. The Odyssey and the Hammond are to provide escort as they pass through Lucian Alliance territories. If the Cylons sue for peace we are to mediate, otherwise we are to deal with them as we see fit. Above all we must ensure none of that Wormhole drive technology falls into Lucian Alliance hands. We are to use any means necessary."

* * *

"I feel rage." Phoebe declared as Gaius held the picture of her family in his hand. Her family had died in the attack on Picon.

Gaius Baltar looked at her. "Against the Cylons," he clarified.

"Not just the machines." Phoebe was now visibly shaking. "Anyone involved. The engineers who designed them. The corporations, the politicians who provoked this war and then did nothing to protect us. And most of all... the Gods."

"The Gods. They stood by and let this happen." Baltar finished the thought for her. Even in his small enclave that statement was not made lightly. Worship of the Lords of Kobol was deeply ingrained into the Colonial psyche. Despite having ostensibly converted to the One True God, few of his followers would dare speak out openly against the old gods.

"Yes, I know, I know," Baltar continued, then he stood up. Times like these there was precious little he could do. Done was done. Deep down, this woman knew nothing could be done anymore. She just wanted, no, needed to know somebody understood her pain. Felt the same pain. Gaius moved closer and handed her back the photograph, then he wrapped his arms around her. "I am so sorry, Phoebe."

"I sympathize." He finished after letting go, still holding her hands. He turned back towards the dais to sit back down, taking a microphone in his hands. One of his followers moved closer to Phoebe and comforted her. He then launched into a sermon on the nature of suffering and forgiveness. On the helplessness and nonexistence of the Gods.

* * *

"Bridge to Col. Gant." The intercom chirped as Paul wrapped up his briefing. At his nod, the Odyssey's commander pressed a button on her console. "Report."

"A spatial distortion has been detected out on the edge of the system, BVR." The intercom chirped again. "Hammond says it's a generic civilian ship of Colonial design." The gathered officers all shared a look at this.

"We'd better find out what they want." Sam suggested, nodding at Hailey to take care of it. She took the hint and motioned for Satterfield to accompany her and translate. "Sir, I'd suggest we use 302's. No need to spook them with what assets we have here." Paul nodded in agreement.

As the two junior officers trotted out, Sam turned to Col. Gant. "Colonel, do you still have the Asgard Core aboard, and can I use it?" The other woman simply nodded. "I don't see why not. What do you have in mind?"

"Translator devices." Sam smiled. "The language we know them to use is familiar to us and there should be files in our databases. It should help us facilitate discussions without the need for Satterfield or Daniel to translate."

"Bridge to Col. Gant". The intercom chirped once more. "Two more spatial distortions have been detected closer in. We're reading ships, big ones. _Hammond_ confirms they match the sensor profiles of Basestars. They just settled into orbit around the gas giant."

It was Cam who recovered first. "When it rains it pours."

* * *

"Come on, Come on. Come on," Starbuck muttered as she led the CAP ahead of the Demetrious.

Hotdog was getting uneasy. Starbuck had taught him everything he knew about combat flying, but weeks upon weeks of erratic jumping was starting wear that respect thin. "Starbuck, Hotdog. Didn't catch that, what are your orders?"

On the Demetrious, Helo knew what was going on and was having none of it. "Hotdog, Demetrious, you know the drill. Keep your eyes open and stick close to Starbuck's wing."

Starbuck just ignored them. "I know you're out here somewhere. Come on."

As if in response, DRADIS pinged. "Starbuck, DRADIS contact. Demetrious we got an inbound, one bogey bearing carom one-four-niner"Hotdog called out the warning. "Roger that," Helo replied then turned to Gaeta. "Call up the action stations, spool up the FTL for emergency jump."

Gaeta already knew what to do as soon as the call came in, and he sprung to action as soon as Helo was done with his instructions. "Action stations, action stations. Set Condition One throughout the ship, this is not a drill. Repeat, action Stations, action stations, this is not a drill."

Starbuck just stared straight ahead, waiting for visuals. Dradis had already confirmed it was a raider. She could take any raider traveling alone. It wasn't something to worry about.

"Son of a bitch, I knew it." Something monumental was about to happen. This raider was only the beginning.

"Starbuck, Demetrious, report... REPORT!" Helo was by now getting agitated, whether they ran or fought was entirely Starbuck's call as mission commander. Whatever Starbuck was on, she needed to snap out of it. Fast.

"Come on." Starbuck muttered. "Talk to me, shoot me, do something." This was it. Whatever was gonna happen, was supposed to happen now.

"Frak it!" Hotdog could no longer contain himself and started flipping safeties off of his coilguns. "I'm going weapons hot!"

* * *

"Hammond, please advise." Hailey had taken a pair of 302's to go meet the Colonials only to find a pair of Baseships in the vicinity by the time they had launched from the Hammond. As if that wasn't enough, a Heavy Raider had subsequently launched and proceeded to do a wormhole jump. That threw her current mission plan out for a loop. So she'd updated the Hammond and requested new instructions.

"Vampire lead, this is Mission command," a new voice came on the net. "Sensors confirm the colonials have launched a pair of smaller signals, believed to be fighters. Also confirmed, the Heavy Raider has jumped to the vicinity of the colonials. Proceed with original course. You are to observe and take action if necessary. Whatever you do, please bear in mind our mission parameters. Standby for hyperspace coordinates."

"Roger that. Vampire two start up hyperdrive, standby for coordinates." Hailey acknowledged and updated Vampire two, who then acknowledged her instructions.

They emerged from hyperspace into utter pandemonium. The larger of the ships, identified from radio chatter as _Demetrious_ was requesting an update from one of the fighters, call sign _Starbuck_. At least that was what Satterfield thought. It was entirely possible that the fighter in the lead was _Demetrious _and that the larger ship off in the distance was the _Starbuck_. Hailey agreed this was unlikely however. _Starbuck_ didn't seem to fit the ship that lagged behind. It was, in a word, ugly. It was reminiscent of a trashcan that had been laid horizontally. Engines glued to the bottom and a control tower tacked on to the side. Hailey's nose wrinkled. It was as if she could smell the stink just looking at it. A large trashcan, she amended, noting that it was big enough to piggyback these two fighters. _Starbuck, _on the other hand, sounded more like it belonged to a fighter jock's galaxy sized ego.

The fighters were an entirely different ballgame. Sleek, slim, fast, and sporting flashy white trimmed with red paint jobs, they were reminiscent of the darts used by the Wraiths of the Pegasus galaxy, but with a decidedly more human design aesthetic. Fairly similar in size, too. Hailey decided she liked them. Until one of them called out weapons hot.

"That's our cue. Vampire two, stay on my six. Unstealth markers on my mark, then take position behind the heavy raider." As the other pilot acknowledged, Hailey gunned her engines and started accelerating. Coming from behind and below the heavy raider, none of the colonials spotted them until just before she climbed up. Straight into the colonial fighters' field of vision. "Mark!" She called out just before they crossed between the colonials and the heavy raider. She planned on grabbing the colonials' attention. And it worked. Spectacularly.

"DRADIS contacts!" Hotdog called out just as the two marks appeared right between them and the heavy raider. Two huge _things_ simply appeared from the blind spot directly forward and below where his viper's nose was. Fighters, he realized, of a design he had never seen before. They were huge. Larger than a raptor. He watched one climb up over the vipers and then loop into an impossibly tight turn before coming down into a course parallel with his. The dark paint jobs were almost invisible in the backdrop of space, although cockpit lights showed vaguely human shaped pilots. At this point, he realized the other fighter had taken position behind the heavy raider. _A third faction_, then.

"Attention, all colonial and cylon forces in the area are to stand down immediately. This region is under the protection of the Tau'ri. This will be your only warning."

Hotdog thumped a finger on his DRADIS display. The alien fighters had disappeared just as soon as they were done with their warning. He turned to check with Mark One Eyeball. They were still there, but frak if DRADIS could pick them up. That unnerved him. "Starbuck, what are your orders?" If it came down to a dogfight with these aliens, he'd bet on Starbuck. As long as she was on the ball, that is.

"Kara, I'm alone." The heavy raider's pilot decided it was time to speak up. "Look, please don't provoke the Tau'ri. They are very powerful and will not tolerate any fighting here. I'm here to offer a truce between the Cylons... and you. And a chance for you to complete your journey."

The voice continued in a different language, this time apparently addressing the alien fighters. There was a pause before the aliens responded. The language they used seemed vaguely familiar, though it was not something she could put her finger on.

"Leoben..." Kara muttered. She wasn't even listening to him. Since the _Tau'ri_ had arrived she had been at peace. It was a strange sensation. As if all the static that had flooded her mind since the nebula had vanished. She throttled down and peered out at the fighter they used. Turning to her side, she then looked at Hotdog and the fighter that was pacing him. The fighter chose that moment to bank, showing Hotdog its underside and the row of missiles stowed there. She breathed deeply before speaking.

"Stand down. All units stand down."


	5. Chapter 4

It isn't mine because if it were, they'd have sacrificed the Bucket instead of the Beast. Stargate isn't mine either.

Not intended for profit. Thanks for all the support.

This is a bit short. The next chapter should have more substance.

* * *

Ensign Samuel "Longshot" Anders returned to a Demetrius that was in uproar. "So I guess I missed all the excitement, huh?" He queried a waiting Felix Gaetta as he climbed down from the airlock. Gaetta simply nodded. "Starbuck found something alright. Though there's some debate as to what that something is."

Felix then followed Sam into the bridge where the other officers on the expedition were deep in discussion.

"I don't like the looks of this." Ensign Diana "Hardball" Seelix was shaking her head. Anything from the Cylons was always suspect. Guarantees of safe conduct from an unknown faction more so.

"What if it's a frakking Cylon trap?" Junior Lieutenant Eammon "Gonzo" Pike put in his two cents. "Is it any coincidence that these new guys speak some frakking Cylon language?"

"It's not Cylon, it's Ancient Kobolian." Athena corrected him. "There's a difference."

"Oh yeah? What difference is that?" Gonzo wasn't convinced.

"Because we don't have a spoken language of our own." Athena explained patiently. "Just Caprican standard same as most Colonials do. It's the language of choice for law and academics. Most of the Fleet speaks Picon standard. Almost identical, just more naval terms and slightly different intonation. If you were to go to say, Gemenon or Libran, the native language there would be vastly different. All of these languages however, have their roots in an older tongue that was spoken on Kobol before the Caravan left."

"Does anybody else in the Fleet speak Ancient Kobolian?" Helo's curiosity was piqued.

"Maybe the odd academic or two. Priests, oracles. Anyone who studies scriptures. It's what the scriptures are writtten in. All Cylons are familiar with the scriptures up to a certain degree or another, so everybody just happens to speak it as a matter of course."Athena answered.

"Right. And these _Tau'ri_ just happen to speak the language. Anybody else see that as suspicious?" Uncertain looks were exchanged at the implications.

"What exactly did we get?" Sam tried to steer the discussion back into relevant territory.

"Jump coordinates that will take us deeper into the system. Plus some guarantee from these _Tau'ri_ that it will be neutral territory. Leoben said he has a proposal for us." Gaeta answered the question for him.

"So what? You think that guarantee's reliable? Frak. Are you actually thinking about doing this?" Seelix was incredulous. Sam himself was secretly intrigued at the possibility of meeting the Cylons and these _Tau'ri _face to face.

"XO, listen, meeting the Cylons, that's suicide. If it turns into a firefight we're frakked. Vipers need the Demetrius to go anywhere. Demetrius is a sitting duck without the vipers." Gaeta tried to be the voice of reason.

"Nothing's been decided." Helo said.

"And what, you trust Starbuck to make the right decision? Because she's out of control." Athena deadpanned.

"Whoa, what are you saying?" Sam didn't like the tone of her voice.

"We are running on fumes, Anders. In two days we are gonna be overdue for our rendezvous with the Fleet." Athena didn't really like the idea of being left behind. "We gotta do something before she takes us all down with her."

"Are you talking mutiny?" Helo wasn't pleased. "Because that's sure what it sounds like. You want to tear this ship apart, then keep riling up the crew making your crazy-Starbuck cracks. Otherwise, I suggest you both shut the frak up."

"Starbuck is leading us into a trap." Athena insisted. "If the Cylons capture the freighter, they're gonna have nav data straight back to the Fleet."

"Then we better keep that from happening." Starbuck finally decided to make an appearance at this point. She'd been in her quarters making up her mind. "Order the CAP back and lock down the ship. As soon as we can work through the jump coordinates from Leoben, we go. It's a chance to find Earth, I intend to take it."

Pike didn't like that. "Talking to the Cylons wasn't part of the mission, okay? If we don't return, we are all gonna die!"

Starbuck held her ground. "We came out here to complete a mission. The Cylons have something to do with it, we are going to meet them. End of discussion." She finished, then went back to her quarters.

Pike wasn't gonna take it sitting down. "No, you know what, frak her! And Frak the Cylons, okay?"

"Let it go, Pike, Just let it go." Hotdog tried to stop him.

"Get the frak out of my way! We are all gonna die unless I do something about her." Pike evaded him only to find Helo in his way.

"Just walk away, this doesn't have to go any further." Helo tried to remain calm.

"Just figures you'd side with the Cylons, right?"That was it. Helo let him have it.

* * *

"I must admit this is unexpected." Col. Paul Davis addressed their unannounced guest.

"Not surprising. I must beg your forgiveness for the deception. But it was felt that it was the only way we could resolve our problem with some degree of privacy." Their guest replied back.

"So what can we do for you?" Sam already had her suspicions. There were very few items that could draw the notice of their onetime ally enough for him to show to himself like this.

"I believe you already know. There are certain technologies that have always been of significant interest to us and they were bound to attract our notice enough to make contact like this. A chance to study how another species utilizes them firsthand would be greatly appreciated. We might learn something useful."

"Sadly the faction that made contact with us is the one that no longer has access to the type of technologies you wish to study. We are about to mediate in negotiations between the Cylons and the Colonials, though. So anything can still happen." Sam didn't really want them to get their hopes up.

"We will keep you apprised." It was the only thing they could promise at this point, Davis thought.

"That will be more than enough." Their ally assured them gratefully. "These people are fortunate to have attracted the attention of the Tau'ri." The barest hint of a smile graced their guest's normally impassive features.

"WE were fortunate to have attracted your attention." Sam smiled back.

* * *

"Do you think they will agree?" Natalie asked Leoben anxiously. It was Leoben who had brought the invitation to the Colonials.

"If they think it through, they don't really have a choice." Leoben replied.

"You mean we don't have a choice." The Eight grumbled.

Sonja could only look at the Eights sadly. Not known for their steadfastness, the series of setbacks had laid their spirits low. Ironically, those Eights that did put their mind to it had ended up revolutionizing Cylon civilization. Or tearing it apart. Literally. Either way, the potential was there. One could only hope these Eights could step up to the examples their wayward sisters had set.

"What about these Tau'ri? What are we to do with them? We know next to nothing about them." It was inevitable that somebody would eventually raise the question. The mysterious _Tau'ri_ were an enigma. This system obviously was not their home. Yet they stayed to protect it. Covert surveys had been done in the inner planets and a human culture had been found in one of the planets therein. But those farmers made even the Aerilons look sophisticated. Their discrete inquiries had found that while that they were familiar with the _Tau'ri _as peaceful explorers, they were not aware the _Tau'ri_ had such an interest in their well-being. They did not know the amount of resources the _Tau'ri _were willing to expend in their defense, neither did they consider themselves under some form of _Tau'ri_ authority. They did not even know weren't from the same planet. Or that there were other worlds aside from theirs to begin with.

This was obviously not their home system. Which begged the question of where their home system was. Astrogational surveys with the Baseships' telescopes had determined that this was a relatively desolate area of space. Given the atmosphere aboard their ships, the conditions on their homeworld could not be very far from Colonial standards of habitability. Yet there were no stars even remotely capable of supporting such a planet for dozens of lightyears around that they could find. Colonial FTL technology would have been hard put to maintain a presence over such a distance.

That was another question. Nobody had ever seen the _Tau'ri_ use FTL. Their fighters had obviously done some sort of FTL jump to get so close to the Demetrius, but it had not registered on DRADIS the way Cylon or Colonial FTL would. They had footage of the _Hammond_ in action, and it was still as spine chilling to watch as it had been during the day of the actual battle. Even the Mercury class Pegasus, the most powerful of Colonial Battlestars had broken itself taking on those kinds of odds. Yet the _Tau'ri_ had made it look easy. That was when they made their presence known. It had been pointed out more than once that they could have just watched Cavil's forces slaughter them without doing anything and no one would have noticed they'd been there the whole time. When they did make their presence felt, they did so with no ambiguity whatsoever. They were quite simply the most heavily armed peaceful explorers the Cylons had ever seen.

The potential for damage was unnerving to say the least. Some Cylons were beginning to wonder what it would take to gain the help of the _Tau'ri_ against Cavil's fleet. Just a single ship could even the odds significantly.

"They've offered to mediate between us and the Colonials. Perhaps we can learn more then." Leoben answered. Perhaps they would even like what they would learn.

* * *

Meanwhile aboard the Demetrius, all hell had broken loose.

"You wanna know who's in charge? You wanna know who's in command? You frakkin' wanna know?" Sam Anders had just shot Felix Gaeta in order to prevent the latter from jumping the Demetrius back towards the fleet. Felix Gaeta had fallen on his back, cursing as the armor piercing round shattered his leg bone.

"Sam!" Starbuck tried desperately to calm him down, but her efforts were hampered by the mutineers' hands on her.

"It's Captain Thrace, gods damn it! Now you let her go!" Sam kept waving the gun around, daring anyone else to take a shot.

"Stand down!" Karl frantically repeated. Sam had broken the standoff by firing his gun. The last thing everybody wanted was to escalate the matter further. They were all Colonials. They were not supposed to be shooting at each other.

Finally a medkit had arrived and Felix' injury had been seen to and dressed. The cursing had stopped as the morpha had sent him into blissful oblivion.

"You're right, Helo, I never should've ordered the Demetrius to jump. Too many lives to risk on a gut instinct." Starbuck conceded.

Quickly new arrangements were made. The Demetrius would hold position while the Raptor went on the trip. Starbuck, Anders, Jean Barolay and Athena would crew the Raptor to meet the Cylons and the _Tau'ri_. The timer was set. If they did not return within the specified time, the Demetrius was gonna have to return to the fleet without them.

"You have 14 hours and 40 minutes. Godspeed." Helo wished them off as the Raptor launched.

The Raptor jumped. Straight into a graveyard.

"Multiple contacts, all quadrants." Sam called out from the ECO station.

"What the frak..." Barolay stared past the cockpit window in awe. The Galactica had been through numerous space battles. This was her first time seeing the end result of warships fighting and dieing.

"I make it three Baseships destroyed in relative proximity to each other. Another two a short distance off. Both sets were in close formation. Opposing each other." Sharon looked thoughtful.

"Frak... Are you saying the Cylons did this to each other?" Barolay was trying to wrap her mind around the concept of Cylons splitting up in a state acrimonious enough to actually shoot at each other.

"Frak indeed." Starbuck didn't find the idea any easier to digest.

"We're being hailed." Sam had stepped back to the ECO station after taking a quick peek outside.

A voice stated brusquely in Caprican Standard for them to identify themselves. Surprised that these _Tau'ri_ had apparently now learned Caprican Standard as well, Athena replied, identifying herself and communicating their desire to parley. They were told to await landing instructions and Athena acknowledged.

As soon as they cleared the debris field, Starbuck screamed and giggled girlishly. Right there, it was the image that had been haunting her throughout most of the trip. A gas giant with a pair of Baseships hanging like stars just off the southern pole and slightly to the side. A ship coasting like a comet just under the northern pole of the planet. It was the same ship that was giving them landing instructions.

They maneuvered into a brightly lit hangar bay. Rows of the dark fighters that had interrupted their earlier confrontation with the Cylons were parked off towards the rear of the landing bay. A Heavy Raider sat parked off to the side closer to the bay doors. The Cylon delegation was already there.

Jennifer Hailey suppressed a wistful sigh as the three spacesuit and one civilian clad figure stepped out of the Raptor. The SGC didn't have anything even remotely close. All their spacesuits were of the bulky and unwieldy type. NASA was developing the next generation Constellation suit and Homeworld Command was already planning the appropriate upgrades/refits to make sure it fit their needs. It was unfortunately still too bulky for the pilots, who still had to make do with unpressurized flightsuits. There was a Bio-Suit under development by an MIT team under Prof. Newman that looked promising. There was also some parallel research over at Cyberdine, but all these were years away from actual use.

The three removed their helmets and the short brunette began the introductions. Another one of Satterfield's look-alikes. Since the translation devices had been fabricated with Asgard tech, the poor woman had taken to avoiding these meet and greets altogether. Hailey was going solo for this one.

"I am Lieutenant Sharon Agathon, callsign Athena. This my commanding officer Captain Kara Thrace, callsign Starbuck." She indicated the single male in their party, "that's Lieutenant Sam Anders, callsign Longshot, and Jean Barolay a civilian volunteer." Athena spoke hurriedly.

At Starbuck's prompting she continued. "Before anything else, we would like to request emergency medical assistance. One of our people is badly hurt." Understanding the need for urgency, she quickly relayed the request to Col. Carter who quickly agreed. The tanned brunette moved to go back into the Raptor before the taller blonde held her arm. Quickly indicating that she was needed here, Capt. Thrace motioned Lt. Anders to go instead. Jean Barolay shrugged and climbed back into the Raptor to help him.

"I'm Major Jennifer Hailey, by the way, callsign Comet," she quickly introduced herself to the two women as she ushered them out of the landing bay so that it could be de-pressurized prior to the Raptor's launch. Most of their technologies were still being kept under wraps. Including atmospheric force shielding. She muttered a quick prayer that they were not too late as she led the two to their assigned guest quarters to freshen up and await their injured man.

It was at this point that Starbuck realized what had happened. The introductions had been made in Caprican Standard, which Major Hailey had spoken flawlessly and without any hint of an accent. The flight control officer who had guided the Raptor in had also spoken in the same language with similar precision. Yet during that first encounter, they had spoken Ancient Kobolian. Starbuck had ordered the stand down out of gut instinct, but Athena had confirmed later that that was exactly what the _Tau'ri _had demanded. Now just a few hours later they were speaking Caprican Standard in a manner that would make its elitist upper crust elements green with envy. A cold chill ran down her spine. _What were these people?_


	6. Chapter 5

It's not mine 'coz if it were, it wouldn't be set 100,000 years in the past.

Not intended for profit.

Thank you for all the good feedback.

* * *

"I am Dr. Daniel Jackson, ambassador-at-large for the Tau'ri. To my right is Col. Paul Davis, Officer in Charge of all Tau'ri forces in this system and to my left is Col. Samantha Carter, commander of this ship. Together we represent the Tau'ri for these negotiations." Daniel started the negotiations by identifying himself and what he represented. For now, it was deemed that the number of people directly involved be kept to a minimum. They could add Vala and her personal brand of rapport later.

"I am Capt. Kara Thrace, mission commander for the Demetrius mission." Starbuck began, taking Dr. Jackson's nod as a signal to introduce her team. "To my left and right respectively are Lt. Sharon Agathon and Lt. Samuel Anders, two of my pilots. On Lt. Anders' right is Miss Jean Barolay, a civilian volunteer. We were dispatched from the Colonial Fleet to find a way to Earth." She then leveled her stare at the party at the other side of the table. "So far it seems to have lead us straight to the Cylons," then met Daniel's eyes, "and you."

Daniel and the other two Tau'ri delegates' faces remained neutral at this confirmation that the Colonials were also seeking Earth. And the Cylon delegation took the silence as cue to begin introducing themselves.

"I am Natalie Faust, de facto leader of the Cylon Rebel faction. This is Amanda, an Eight." She indicated the tanned female to her right. "And this is Leoben, a Two." This was the tall blond man on her left. "Some of our people originally jumped to this region of space completely by accident in order to escape an ambush laid out for our fleet. We now believe we were deliberately lead here where Kara Thrace would soon appear." This last sentence was accompanied by a pointed look at Kara Thrace. "And where the Tau'ri could provide some protection and mediate." This time the look was aimed at the Tau'ri panel.

Daniel gazed impassively at both delegations in turn before speaking again. "Setting aside the possibility that we were all lead to this time and place by unknown influences, what do you all plan to do now?"

Capt. Thrace simply nodded across at the Cylon delegation, and it was Leoben who spoke out. "The... hybrid will want to see you. I'm sure of it."

* * *

Laura Roslin held on to the dieing woman's hand as she faded away. How ironic that she should survive the Fall of the Colonies only to find this. A slow death to a lingering illness that slowly ate at her from inside out. Was this the fate that awaited her? Was this the fate of their people? Cursed to wander the stars looking for a home that may not exist? Slowly dieing out on their battered old ships?

_There had to be something else. _Laura thought as she gazed down at the woman's peaceful expression. It was over. The indicators all said she was gone. Yet at the end she had found a certain measure of peace. From the words spouting off of Gaius Balter, no less. Perhaps there was something more to the Colonials' suffering. Perhaps there was something else at work.

It was vexing. Anything associated with the man inevitably brought strong feelings. But what did Gaius Baltar know? The man was undeniably brilliant. Had he somehow gained some insight into what the future might hold? Used his advanced knowledge of mathematics and statistics to somehow come up with a model that would predict what fate awaited the remnants of the Colonies?

_Not likely. _Laura thought ruefully. She was just jumping at shadows. Baltar had not been doing much in the way of research since his acquittal. In a way, Gaius Baltar had gone through more upheavals than anyone else in the fleet. He had been there on the surface of Caprica as the bombs fell. Forced to rely on the vagaries of fate to gain a place of relative safety on the fleet. Not something a successful and educated person could stomach easily, as Laura well knew. Forced to use his charisma to gain public office. That part was Laura's fault. She had invited him to join politics in the first place. Baltar had gained the pinnacle of public office only for it all to come crashing down as the Cylons took over. Now, bereft of everything, Baltar was just getting by. Stripped down to depending on faith. Faith and the belief that things would get better.

In a way, the story of the rise and fall of the Colonies was also Baltar's story in macrocosm. If he wanted to spout off some mumbo-jumbo, who was she to argue? As long as somebody listened. As long as somebody could die peacefully, reassured by his words. In the end it was nothing to her anymore. Should be nothing. The fact remained that Baltar apparently knew something. Had a sense of how things were going to play out. It was something that would bear looking into.

* * *

"Why is it always Kara? You've been obsessed with her since the beginning!" It was Lt. Anders who reacted first, so agitated he forgot to address her by rank.

"Because it has to be her. Look at her. She's finally free of all doubt, all questions. She is now ready to take the next step of her journey. To lead us all home."

"A blue planet, covered in clouds," Leoben continued. "So beautiful. I cried when she first described it to me. Her eyes had never seemed alive. You have to meet her Kara. She'll tell you things."

"Why me? What happened to me the two months I was gone?" Capt. Thrace asked, visibly keeping herself under control. "And before that. The mandala, the paintings, my mother. What did it all mean?"

"I don't know." The Cylon male answered sympathetically. "This is not all that we are, Kara. That's a basic article of faith. Whatever's in the past, you have to let it go. Trust that the answers will reveal themselves in time."

"Alright." Daniel finally decided to cut in. "So the Cylon faction wishes to invite Capt. Thrace for an audience with their hybrid. Capt. Thrace will you accept the invitation?" He was answered with a simple nod.

"Very well then," he continued. "Understand that as the mediating party we cannot simply allow any visits on ships between your two factions. This is not meant to derail or delay the process in any way. Rather, it is for your own protection. Your two peoples have been at war on a scale rarely seen in the galaxy at large. There is bound to be some hard feelings. Therefore we find it prudent to minimize direct unsupervised contact between your two groups."

"Hard feelings, huh? That's what you call them?" Lt. Anders decided to cut in once more. "They came to us speaking of peace and unity, when all they were interested in was keeping us down at the point of a gun."

Daniel fought the urge to sigh. The man was a stereotypical alpha male. With a physique that belonged on a professional athlete of some kind. The face was not bad-looking either and if he'd been an athlete on Earth, the two combined would have made him a darling of product endorsements.

"As I was saying," he continued patiently. "Hard feelings for both groups concerned. I understand going through an occupation was hard, Lt. Anders. But I'm also well aware of the sort of horrors a determined guerilla resistance could come up with. Particularly if you consider your oppressors to be less than human."

Daniel looked at the Cylon delegation and spoke on. "For better of for worse your former robotic slaves have decided to take on human form. As far as I am concerned that makes them susceptible to all the usual failings of humanity. Fear, hatred, rage."

"We are the children of humanity." The tanned female that looked a lot like Capt. Satterfield asserted. "We learned everything from them." The double meaning of her words was clear.

Daniel simply nodded as if confirming something. "This meeting is hereby adjourned until we come up with a proper set of protocols to govern your impending ship visit, Capt. Thrace. Bear in mind this will likely be a precedent for future ship visits once the peace is formalized and the Basestars join your fleet, if ever."

As they filed out of the conference room, Kara was surprised to find Leoben had stayed behind, a Tau'ri guard watching him closely.

"What do you want?" She asked him straight off.

"Here." Leoben handed out a portable mini-drive typically used with Colonial tablets.

"What is it?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"A recording of our first encounter with the Tau'ri." The blond Cylon explained. "Why we know better than to take them lightly."

* * *

"Time?" Helo asked Lt. Diana Seelix.

"T minus 9 hours six minutes," the younger officer replied, keeping her eyes on the Dradis displays.

"Almost 6 hours gone. It's the waiting that's a real bitch." Helo mused. "I hope they're ok. I hope they were able to save Felix."

Instead of replying, Seelix called out the Dradis contact alert. "It's the raptor. They're hailing us. Requesting to dock."

"Do it." Helo nodded and moved to the airlock. Whatever it was, it seemed urgent. He was greeted by his wife holding out a portable mini-drive. "What is this?" Athena had removed her helmet but looked as if she was planning on heading back out, staying close to the airlock.

"Information about the Tau'ri. The Cylons gave it to us after we met with them and the Tau'ri. Said it was proof that the Tau'ri were not to be taken lightly." Sharon shuddered as she remembered how the Tau'ri had dealt with the Cylons that attacked it. "I think it's proof the Cylons wouldn't dare double-cross us while the Tau'ri are watching."

"What does Kara want us to do with it?" Helo asked, realizing that this was more than just a simple status update.

"Starbuck wants you to jump ahead to the rendezvous. Leave as soon as possible. The Old Man has to see it so the fleet can prepare." Sharon's voice was tight. "I'll return to the Tau'ri. We'll delay as much as we can before heading back to the fleet as well," she continued.

"You really think there will be peace with these particular Cylons?" Helo couldn't help but wonder how his wife felt about the prospect of peace with her own people.

"I don't really know." Sharon was in no mood to speculate. "It looks like the Tau'ri are here to stay, though. Which makes it important that the Old Man see what's on the portable."

"Very well. Begin jump prep." Helo called out to the bridge before turning towards his wife once more. "Will you be heading out?" He wished he could spend more time with his wife.

In response, Sharon moved closer and put her arms around him. "Hey," she said soothingly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Just visiting the family." She kissed him lightly.

"Alright." Helo kissed her back before letting her go. "You'd better be heading back as well. We'll keep the light shining back at the fleet."

* * *

"There she goes." Capt. Satterfield was manning the long range sensors when the Colonial Raptor requested to launch. It had seemed suspicious, but there really was no reason to keep either Colonials or Cylons forcibly within the vicinity. Now not long after the Raptor had jumped to where the other Colonial ship was maintaining position, the long range sensors had detected a wormhole jump straight out to deep space.

"Where do you think they're going?" By coincidence, Col. Davis had also happened to be on the Hammond's bridge.

"Deep space. Rejoining their fleet maybe?" The younger officer speculated. " It looks like the Raptor's jumped back. It's requesting landing instructions."

"Let them proceed." Paul pursed his lips in thought for a minute before continuing. "Signal the Odyssey. Give my regards to Col. Gant. Have them shadow the Colonial ship. Discreetly."

* * *

"Do you think it was wise to let the Colonials know how badly the Tau'ri can beat Baseships?"

Leoben paused before replying to Natalie's question. "No harm done. Maybe it will make them trust us a bit more. At the very least it'll keep them from trying to frak around with the Tau'ri."

"Adama will no doubt be looking at that footage by now." Natalie persisted. Unwilling to drop the subject just yet.

"I don't see anything wrong with that. At least he's got sense."

"What do you think Amanda's doing?" The Eight had opted to stay on the Hammond.

"I don't really know. She mentioned something about taking a look at the Hammond's medical facilities. Though she won't say why."

All this of course, had been said over the datastream. If you were to ask most anybody watching them, they'd tell you that the two Cylons had simply sat quietly in their seats, hands on their consoles as they piloted the Heavy Raider back to the Baseship. They would also happen to be incorrect. While it was possible for a Bio-Cylon to directly control a Heavy Raider, such was not its default mode of operation. Heavy Raiders, were, like their smaller brothers, also fitted with an artificial brain capable of simple tasks such as ferrying people back and forth between larger ships with little to no supervision.

As for why they were arguing over the datastream, it just so happened they were not alone. The Tau'ri had finally allowed the visit to push through. Though not without certain conditions. The number of visitors was to be kept to a minimum. No non-essential personnel, which explains why the civilian volunteer was absent. Kara had brought Athena with her, and Sam had absolutely refused to be left behind. The conditions also stipulated that they were to be escorted by Tau'ri soldiers at all times. Hence the Heavy Raider was packed practically to capacity as a delegation of Tau'ri, led by Dr. Jackson himself, along with a few other key Tau'ri officers also sat in the by now crowded compartment.

"Are we there yet?" One of the Tau'ri, a Vala Mal Doran had been asking that question repeatedly since the trip began.

"No!" The number of people joining in the answer seemed to increase each time.

Presently they were there, and the hatch opened to a landing bay that was completely empty of either Bio-Cylons or Centurions. Only Heavy Raiders and captured Raptors parked in berths were visible. Natalie had already ordered the corridors leading to the Hybrid to be cleared beforehand. Another condition imposed by the Tau'ri. She watched the Tau'ri surreptitiously as they filed out of the Heavy Raider. Looking out for any signs of disapproval, but finding none. Dr. Jackson simply nodded to himself with a satisfied air. Gone was the expensive-looking business suit he had worn at the conference earlier. That one looked as if it had been taken straight out of a Caprican fashion magazine. Now he was dressed like the other Tau'ri were. A holstered sidearm was strapped to his side. The ever fashion-conscious Six approved. He wasn't hard to look at either, filling out the BDU's and tactical vest rather nicely.

"Well... Like what you've done to the place. All silver and shiny," she remarked with a catty grin. "I like shiny."

Dr. Jackson simply nodded to another Tau'ri who looked much like him. A Col. Mitchell, Natalie remembered, and the officer quickly arranged the other Tau'ri into an escort formation around Capt. Thrace and Lt. Anders. Athena had opted to stay with the Heavy Raider, and three of the Tau'ri, including one junior officer were left behind to watch her. When everybody was ready, Natalie led everyone deeper into the Baseship.

Sharon watched the hatch close behind the party, then turned towards the Tau'ri assigned to guard her and the Heavy Raider. "I don't know about you. But if things go south we may have to leave pretty quickly, so I'm gonna be inspecting this here Heavy Raider for any damage, ok?"

"You can fly this?" The Tau'ri officer left in charge asked.

"If I have to."

The Tau'ri pursed his lips then motioned one of his men to accompany her. She then set off on a circuit of the Heavy Raider, pausing to more closely inspect the various dents and scratches she found. So engrossed was she that she did not notice her Tau'ri escort when he first tried to call her attention. She was therefore surprised when she turned around to find herself confronted by several other Eights.

"What do you want?" She asked. More surprised than annoyed.

"They call you Athena now. You even wear their uniform like you're one of them." One of the Eights, the leader, she supposed, said reverently. "You were the first to say no."

"No to what?" Athena asked, curious as to what exactly this audience was about.

"The entire plan. You joined the humans. You had a child. You showed us that we don't have to be slaves to our programming." Athena rolled her eyes, the Eight was almost in tears. She glanced at her escort, curious as to what he made of the whole thing. He seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed. Obviously, seeing a pack of Cylons break down in tears was not what he had signed up for.

"We wanted the same thing, but it turned out to be a disaster." The Eight continued once she had regained herself. "The Sixes have made one mistake after another. They have to be stopped before they get the rest of us killed."

"Ask." One of the other Eights prompted the leader.

"You could help us." The leader said, her eyes pleading.

"You guys want me to lead a mutiny against the Sixes?" Athena was flabbergasted at what they were asking her to do.

"It's the only way," the leader insisted.

"You guys make me sick," she responded disgustedly.

"Why?" The leader asked, perplexed.

"Because you pick your side and you stick. You don't cut and run when things get ugly. Otherwise you'll never have anything. No love, no family, no life to call your own. Now if you guys don't need anything else, I've got work to do."

Lt. Andrew Joseph Spencer had seen the whole exchange and his respect for the Capt. Satterfield lookalike grew. He had first noticed the Eights as they approached the Heavy Raider from a different direction than the hatch they were watching. He had realized, belatedly, that there must be other hatches in the landing bay. Idly he wondered if there was some way to secure these other hatches and was surprised when he turned around and almost bumped into her.

She was a vision of beauty. With long blond hair, and dressed in a simple white dress that at once covered yet emphasized her various assets. He could not help but stare as she stared back, blue eyes wide with innocent curiosity. She was tall, too. Maybe an inch or two taller than him. Curiosity then turned to shock when she reached up and, placing her hands on either side of his face pulled him in for a kiss. A very deep kiss.

* * *

"All these things at once and many more not because it wishes harm but because it likes violent vibrations to change constantly then shall the maidens rejoice at the dance structural integrity of node seven restored repressurizing Anomalous energy readings detected bearing three-fifteen, two-ninety-five by fourteen. For thieves have overrun the home and the Firstborn shall drive them out. End of line."

The Hybrid was babbling to itself as the visiting party entered the Hybrid chamber. "This is the Hybrid." Leoben introduced her to the visitors.

"Was she always like that?" Daniel eyed the fluid and the cabling it concealed.

"She doesn't get out much, does she?" Vala's eyes were wide despite the one-liner.

"And she acts as the central processing core for your ship?" Maj. Hailey was clearly intrigued.

"Yes. Because she is hooked up directly to the Baseship's sensors we believe she experiences reality differently. Has a different view from ours." Leoben explained.

"So what now? I thought she had something for me." Starbuck asked uncertainly.

"Just move closer." Natalie urged her on.

The Hybrid seemingly paid them no heed. "But you are a spark of God's fire core update complete. Threat detection matrix enabled dendritic response bypassed the received dose is altered by the delayed gamma burst going active execute the children of the one reborn shall find their own country, end of line."

"Well, I'm here." Starbuck squatted down in front of the Hybrid. "What, am I supposed to have an epiphany of some kind? What do you want from me? Please..."

Then it happened. The Hybrid suddenly focused on her. "Thus will it come to pass the Dying Leader will know the truth of the Opera House the missing Three will give you the Five who have come from the home of the Thirteenth you are the harbinger of death Kara Thrace you will lead them all to their end. End of line."

Starbuck remained crouched, shell-shocked while the Tau'ri watched the whole scene wordlessly. She stayed still until Sam moved closer to place a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

"She will lead us to the end. We will now know the truth of the Opera House." Leoben muttered, piecing together what the Hybrid had said.

Natalie was just as intrigued. "The home of the Thirteenth..."

"What are you saying?" Kara asked, getting to her feet.

"The Hybrid said, the missing Three will get you the Five, who have come from the home of the Thirteenth." Natalie explained. "The home of the Thirteenth Tribe of Humans."

"And the Five is your Final Five Cylons." Starbuck replied, comprehension dawning.

"If they've come from the home of the Thirteenth Tribe, then they must know the way back." Natalie mused.

"They know how to get to Earth."Starbuck completed the thought.

"What about the missing Three?" Sam asked, his face tight.

"D'anna. The one we boxed for looking at the faces of the Five." Leoben answered.

Daniel, Cam, Vala and Hailey exchanged glances. Things were about to move along it seemed.

"She can recognize them. We have to get back to the fleet." Starbuck said decisively. The discussion clearly over. "You will be speaking on behalf of the Cylons?" She asked the two. The two Cylons exchanged glances before Natalie nodded. "Gods help us then. You realize you're giving away the future of every Cylon aboard your two ships."

"We gave it to the right person." Leoben said with conviction.

"Cut the crap. I don't even know if the Old Man will listen, or simply blast you all into the next life." She turned to Athena. "Try to interface with the ship. See what you can do about a friendly or at least neutral IFF."

Athena nodded before trotting off.

"Well then," Starbuck smiled at the assembled Tau'ri. "Looks like it's time you met our fleet."


	7. Chapter 6

It's not mine because if it is, the sizing and scaling of these ships would have been consistent!

Not intended for profit.

Again, many thanks for all the good feedback.

Scipio: A minor oversight on my part, Athena was supposed to follow on to the Hybrid chamber after inspecting their ride. Much the same as she did in the series.

Now, on with the story!

* * *

Admiral William Adama watched as Doctor Gaius Baltar kept his attention on the tablet in his hands. His eyes were wide, darting to and fro to capture various details on the footage he was watching. His mouth alternated between periods of mumbling furiously and simply hanging slack-jawed. He couldn't really blame the younger man. A short while ago when Helo and Hotdog had first brought the footage to his attention, he had been pretty much the same. Tigh had been the same as well, and had argued strenuously before agreeing that Dr. Baltar had to be brought in on this. The man may now be a crackpot preacher of some kind, but he was still the foremost scientific mind on the fleet.

"What do you think?" He asked when he thought the scientist had had enough time to digest what he had seen.

"What do I think?" The other man turned to him, eyes still wide. "I think we shouldn't piss these people off."

There was an audible sigh as Saul Tigh resisted the urge to physically hurt the good doctor.

"And their technology?" Adama tried again. This time steering the conversation towards something Gaius could focus on.

"Ah yes, yes. Their technology, very advanced." Gaius' eyes lost their glazed look and he paused, as if collecting his thoughts.

"For such a small ship too." He was holding the tablet once more punching in commands. "About a fifth the size of the Galactica. Probably smaller."

"The ship's rate of acceleration was unheard of. Nothing we have can accelerate so quickly." Gaius continued. "Even if we could, it would almost certainly crush everyone on board. Are they human?"

"Athena reported that they looked completely human." Helo answered the scientist's question.

"I see. Must be inertial compensators then."

"Inertial compensators?" Tigh ground out the unfamiliar term.

"Accelerating causes G-forces." Gaius explained. "G-forces are primarily caused by inertia. When you're stationary in a Viper and you suddenly open up the throttle, inertia will push you back towards your original location. That's what gives you the feeling of being kicked in the... posterior." He grinned at his own joke, before realizing nobody else was laughing. Clearing his throat, he continued. "It's pretty much the same even if you move from a state of lower velocity to higher velocity. Inertial compensators work by counteracting these forces."

"How?" Adama asked curiously.

"Two ways of doing it that I know of. By creating a field where the effects of outside inertial forces are somehow blocked off, or by generating an artificial gravity field oriented in the opposite direction of where they should be. Pulling on you at the same time that G-forces push at you." Gaius pushed his hands together in front of him for emphasis.

"It's not just their capital ships. Their fighters were pulling extremely high-G turns as well." Hotdog piped in.

"So it's not a technology we possess?" Adama asked.

"No. Space craft that are large enough often have multiple gravity field generators oriented in all directions to counteract acceleration as a stopgap measure, but this is obviously not a viable solution for the smaller fighters or shuttlecraft..." Gaius' brow furrowed in concentration before continuing. "Caprican Space Tech was researching it prior to the First Cylon War, but the prototype fell into enemy hands. I suspect that's what the Cylons currently use for their ships. The technology is intimately related to reactionless drives. Since then, Picon Orbital recently restarted experiments on it, but they were a few more years away from a working prototype."

"Even Cylon ships don't accelerate that fast." Tigh mused.

"No they don't. But as you see, these Tau'ri seem to help things along with standard reaction-based engines. Still, the fact that they apparently have these on their fighters as well imply a deeper understanding of the underlying technology than even Cylons possess."

"What about the other things? The lasers, the energy shielding?" Adama asked, trying to move the discussion along.

"For weaponry, again the Tau'ri have a mix of the mundane and the esoteric. I don't know what they use for their projectile based weapons, but the tracers move more quickly than our own KEW's. The energy beams aren't lasers. Too slow. My guess would be focused high intensity plasma. That one we definitely do not have."

"How would our armor hold up against it?" Tigh asked.

"Not very well. It depends on how hot the beam is and how quickly it penetrates. The temperature might be high enough to cause our armor to melt or even sublimate instantaneously. From the outside it will look like an explosion. Depleted as it is, our armor won't last much longer than the Baseships' did."

"Then what?" Tigh asked again, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

"The beam will superheat any air it comes into contact with for meters around. In an atmosphere there's less of a problem because of the volume of air present. In the confined spaces of a ship though, the corridors themselves will seem to burst into flame. This is all theoretical of course. I really wouldn't know for sure without further tests."

"And the shields?" Adama asked.

"Jump field stabilizers are valuable components of FTL drives, more so than spin sync generators. Those only let you point where you want to jump to. Jump field stabilizers create an energy field that counteracts the turbulence of an FTL phenomenon. It's why the Galactica has to retract its flight pods prior to jumping, the jump field stabilizers are an older design and the jump field won't cover the entire ship like that on a newer ship like a Mercury or Valkyrie class will."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tigh asked, annoyed that Baltar was apparently going off topic.

"There was a theory going around before the Fall that a jump field could be used as a protective barrier. Fleet R&D was extremely interested. It was to be the next big research project after the Colonial Navigation Programme. In any case, testing the theory was ridiculously prohibitive. Jump field stabilizers are notorious power hogs after all. Almost half the power required for an FTL jump goes into one. Finally the High Energy Labs at Caprica Tech was able to get one going for three minutes. In that time it stopped everything they threw at it. Including a nuclear bomb."

"So you're saying we have the technology, we just don't have the juice for it?" Helo clarified.

At Baltar's nod, Tigh muttered a curse.

* * *

"What do you mean he's not here?" Col. Cameron Mitchell was beside himself. They had finally finished with the Hybrid and had returned to the landing bays only to find that the junior officer he had left in charge of guarding the Heavy Raider had gone missing.

"A Cylon dragged him off, sir." One of the enlisted men supposed to stay with the missing officer replied. The other one had accompanied Athena when she made her way to the Hybrid chamber after inspecting the Heavy Raider. Leaving this one to watch the Heavy Raider alone.

"And you didn't radio this in... why?" Cam tried to remain calm.

"Didn't think he was in immediate danger, sir." The airman seemed more embarrassed rather than afraid at being grilled by a full bird colonel.

"And why did you not think he was in immediate danger?" Cam asked again.

"What was that?" The reply had been an almost unintelligible mumble.

"She kissed him first, sir." The airman repeated. This time more loudly.

"She what?" Daniel's eyes were wide.

"It was a Model Six, sir. Like Miss Faust." The soldier continued.

Now more perplexed than actually angry, Cam turned to the aforementioned Miss Faust for an explanation. The Cylon leader flushed. Finally she was able to speak, "uh..some of our sisters have gained a taste for... uhh.. _entertaining_ guests. Few and far in between as they are."

"So you're saying somewhere on this ship, one of our officers is being.. _entertained_... by one of your people. One of the same model as you." Daniel spoke. A hint of a smile was on his face as Natalie nodded, looking embarrassed.

Vala was worse. She snickered audibly. Hailey looked abashed. The missing officer was her direct subordinate, after all. Other Tau'ri coughed discreetly. Smirks and grins hidden behind hands. The Colonial reaction was a bit more obvious. Starbuck at least looked scandalized at the idea of such close "encounters" with Cylons. Nevertheless she, along with her two officers were openly amused.

"Lucky bastard." One soldier behind Cam could not help but mutter enviously. He was not sure he disagreed. Much as his southern gentleman sensibilities objected, there was also the saying about not looking gift horses in the mouth. Soldiers, in particular, tended to be less restrained about such things. When you looked at death as a way of life, you tended to live in the moment whenever you could. And what a gift horse the missing Lt. Spencer had seemingly found. Cylon females were of only two varieties that they had seen so far. Both were attractive, but the Model Six in particular tended to look as if she had stepped straight out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue.

Cam sighed. It wasn't as if stranger things had happened to SGC personnel on offworld missions. With another groan he tried to figure out what to do next. Interrupting the young officer would probably embarrass him more. As it was he was probably going to get some sort of sleazy callsign over this.

"Can you guarantee his safety aboard your ship?" He asked Natalie. The Cylon nodded eagerly in response.

"Can you provide transport for him back to the Hammond when your sister is done... _entertaining_... him?" Another nod, then Natalie gestured to two more Cylons who had been attracted by the commotion. The Six and the Eight giggled but nodded in agreement. "These two will take care of it."

"Right then. Let's get going." Cam frowned as he noticed Vala and Daniel were still snickering. "Maybe I should offer him a spot on SG-1. We're still down a couple people and it looks like he'd fit right in with the two of you."

That shut them up.

* * *

"Welcome aboard, sirs." The dark skinned Naval Captain greeted the new arrivals aboard his ship as soon as the light from the beam transporters had faded. "At ease, Captain. Good to be aboard. You already know General O'Neill and Colonel Ronson from training. The jarhead is Colonel Reynolds from the Stargate Command," the white clad Admiral introduced the others with him.

"Welcome aboard, General, Colonels." Captain Ron Hunter smiled. "If you'll follow me, we can proceed with the inspection."

Before following the man picked to command the US Navy's first Deep Space Carrier out of the bridge, Jack happened to glance out the forward viewports, in the process spying the two fighters maneuvering for landing. "Are those the testbeds for the planned modifications for the Type C 302's?"

"Commander Mitchell's ride is, sir. The chase plane flown by Commander Kazanski is a standard model. I believe they had atmospheric entry and exit tests as well as high altitude maneuvering scheduled for today. Ahead of schedule too. At the rate they're going the testing should be done by tomorrow." Capt. Hunter replied.

"We're all set to start retooling the assembly lines pending completion of these tests. Upgrade kits for the existing planes to start rolling out within a week, with the new fighters shipping in a month." Rear Admiral Metcalf supplied, having obviously taken a personal interest in Earth's primary space superiority fighter.

"Good." Jack nodded, pleased to note that the feared structural weakness at the seams were the wings were meant to be folded had not materialized. He had been involved with the first prototype what seemed like so many years ago now. Back then nobody had thought to design it with folding wings for storage. Ironic since even the Goa'uld Deathgliders they were based on had their wings folded for storage. As time progressed the Air Force simply never got around to modifying them. Now that the Navy was getting on the program, they had lost no time in proposing the change. They were looking at up to a hundred percent increase to a Carrier's fighter complement.

"Maverick and Iceman, conducting the tests, huh... I'd have thought those clowns would have made O-6 by now." Col. Reynolds mused, having met the two pilots earlier in his career.

"They should have." Rear Admiral Mike Metcalf grimaced. "Both of them turned down promotions so they could fly three-ought-two's. They were on the shortlist for this command, too."

The others wisely kept their mouths shut. Mike "Viper" Metcalf had been a throttle and stick jockey himself. He had been something of a mentor for the two aforementioned pilots before moving up to command of a Carrier group. That was what he had been doing before being tapped to head the team developing the doctrine for deploying flotilla sized task forces built around 304's and the new escort craft currently on the drawing boards. As it was, the antics of his erstwhile proteges were obviously something of a sore issue for him.

"So Captain Hunter, how goes the new ship?" Jack asked, trying to change the subject.

The Captain cleared his throat before speaking. "Everything's great, sir. Crew is good, the shakedown is proceeding according to schedule. The advisers you assigned have been nothing but helpful."

At the last statement, Jack shared a look with Colonel Malcolm Reynolds. Both men grinned inwardly. Capt. Hunter's advisers was a team of _marines_. And while said marines had served aboard the Daedalus in numerous battles in the Pegasus Galaxy and was therefore undoubtedly qualified, they could only imagine what Navy sailors thought about a jarhead telling them how to run their ship.

* * *

"All right, people, this is it." Colonel Paul Davis had convened the meeting as soon as the Tau'ri officers got back to the Hammond. "As of this moment, we are less than 48 hours away from first contact with the Colonial Fleet. I want to make sure everything is ready. Doctor?"

Doctor Lam had been sent to coordinate distribution of the relief goods, as well as head the team of doctors being sent to assist the Colonials' no doubt overburdened medical capabilities. "Relief goods are ready for distribution. My team is ready."

"Do you anticipate any problems?"

"I've been discussing it with the psychiatrists. They are predicting a high incidence of PTSD and advise caution." She turned to Daniel. "It was a good idea to minimize unsupervised contact. Unfortunately however, events have already proven them to be correct."

"The medical emergency they had? What happened to it, anyway?" Cam asked.

"An armor piercing round hit Lieutenant Gaeta in the calf. It tore through muscles, then both the fibula and the tibia, before exiting out the front. We found residues on the bone tissue. The materials upon analysis turn out to be close analogues of what we use on our own armor piercing rounds."

"You're saying one of their own people shot him?" Maj. Hailey's eyes were wide. The Colonials seemed professional, she would never have thought they would resort to guns over an argument.

Doctor Lam nodded before answering. "That's the working theory. Some sort of altercation on board resulted in the man being shot. We were able to save the leg, but it will be a while before he's back on his feet. Even then he'll probably need therapy."

Paul nodded before moving on. "Colonel Gant what's the colonial fleet's status?"

Colonel Erin Gant aboard the Odyssey was on teleconference over subspace. "We've been shadowing the colonial fleet under cloak running scans. The ships are maintaining hull integrity, but these ships have clearly been missing some serious dry dock time. Most are civilian transports, including what the fleet keeps referring to as a prison transport. We're also seeing a pair of what our science officer swears are zero gravity mining platforms."

"Zero gravity mining? Sounds valuable." Vala was only partly joking. Her time as a Goa'uld host, Tau'ri consultant and all around galactic rogue had given her a certain kind of insight into the technological capabilities of the various powers in the galaxy. Nobody else did zero gravity mining. Well, the Tau'ri did but they cheated by using beam transporters. If the Colonials had some way of doing it reliably, they could corner the market.

"What about their warship? The... battlestar?" Paul asked.

"It's huge. About a click and a half, but it looks like its coming apart at the seams. From what we hear, it was already due for decomissioning when they started this exodus."

"I see." Paul then turned to Sam. "Any other comments about their technology?"

"We've determined their FTL drives to be wormhole drives. Mass produced and extremely scaleable."

"I thought the power and computational requirements were prohibitive. Even McKay couldn't finish the necessary computations. Shepard never let him live down the fact that Dr. Zelenka completed what he couldn't." Daniel commented.

"Well they found a way around the power issues by running the power into a capacitor bank that dumps it all at once. As for the calculations, the problem is that the calculations are essentially defining the path the wormhole will take. Planetary masses aren't so much of an issue unless you terminate your wormhole in one, but there are other things that wormholes have to steer clear of."

"Flares." Paul supplied. He was rarely out in the field, but he had been associated with the Stargate Command long enough to have picked up some of the lore.

"Among others." Sam agreed. "These Colonials work around that problem by keeping to straight line point to point jumps of five to fifteen lightyears each. That way an experienced navigator can do the necessary calculations by hand. Works great in deep space, though they may take shorter, more numerous ones when they're in a densely occupied planetary system."

* * *

"And you're just gonna let them bring these ships within striking distance of the fleet?" Laura Roslin had just seen the footage. Suffice to say she had not been reassured.

"I doubt we have much of a choice. For what it's worth they don't seem aggressive. They didn't open fire until fired upon." Admiral Adama replied, trying to calm her down.

"Because a single shot can't hurt them," Laura retorted back. "They're just too powerful. That kind of power can hang over our heads like a sword."

"Madame President, much as it pains me to say it, we need these people. The Galactica is just one ship. All it will take is one more Baseship, one more raider, one more nuke. We need the help of a spacefaring power that can keep the Cylons in line. One familiar with the surrounding space."

"And what? Point the way to Earth maybe?" Laura replied sarcastically. Deep down though, Laura knew the Admiral was right. She had been a schoolteacher and had at least been aware of the theories. Just because the Colonies had never found any evidence of life outside their territories did not mean it did not exist. Now here was proof that it did. And if there was one there was probably more. Particularly as they got closer to the galactic core where there were more stars and planets.

"I wonder if they're actually from the Thirteenth Tribe." Laura sighed, her face softening as her anger faded away.

"If they are we have no way of knowing for sure. They've consistently denied any knowledge of Kobol or the thirteen tribes of man. Even if they didn't, who's to say they're being completely honest with us?"

"It makes for a good dream, though. Don't you think?" Laura smiled sadly, remembering all the heartaches of the past three years.

"That we'd be welcomed with open arms by a Thirteenth Tribe who could keep us safe from the Cylons? It does. Unfortunately that's unlikely to happen. Even if the Thirteenth Tribe was still out there, we have no guarantees as to what sort of welcome to expect from. Nor do we even know if they'll remember us at all." Admiral Adama took off his glasses to wipe them clean before continuing. "No. Instead of a Thirteenth Tribe come to welcome and protect us, I'm afraid we'll have to make do with these Tau'ri."

"Just make sure you take appropriate precautions." Laura advised, her voice hard once more.

"The fleet's safety is paramount. All ships will be ready to jump at a moment's notice. If they show any sign of being hostile..." There was no need to finish that statement.

"You just better hope they can't follow us through jumps."

"If they can, then we play the hand that we're dealt." Adama said grimly.


	8. Chapter 7

None of it's mine. If any of it was, we'd have seen more of the Carter Special.

Sorry for the long delay. Though I have a clear idea of where the story is headed, I wasn't quite so sure with this particular part of it.

**Project Slepnir**: In case you weren't able to filter out Carter's technobabble, both have pros and cons. Hyperdrive is easier to use, but travel time over intergalactic distances can be problematic. Wormhole drives have a nearly instantaneous transit time, much like stargates do, but computation and power generation issues can be limiting as well. BSG FTL is just like the Atlantis wormhole drive, except that the Atlantis wormhole drive had the capability to plot a jump over intergalactic distances by virtue of its navigation system being able to plot the actual path the wormhole will take(neatly avoiding those pesky solar flares that stargate wormholes have such problems with). BSG gets around this navigational problem by having a much simpler navigation system that only does straight line jumps. The 5-30 lightyear range is more a limitation on the computer's ability to compute galactic drift. Cylon FTL has a range that is several magnitudes more than that because their computers are that much more advanced.

**Dreylin**: Nice of you to notice the style of storytelling. It's actually the same way BSG episodes are laid out, subdivided into a few acts each.

Thanks for all the positive reviews everyone. I confess I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop and get flames.

* * *

"General O'Neill will see you now."

Nodding her thanks, the slim civilian patted herself surreptitiously to straighten out any wrinkles in her skirtsuit before proceeding through the opened doors into a veritable beehive of activity. Black was the color of the day as uniformed techs and officers scurried to and fro, manning various computer stations and consoles. The obvious hub of all the activity was in the center of the room, dominated by a huge starmap depicting the milky way galaxy. That the starmap obviously contained up-to-date information on Earth's supposedly top secret interstellar activities did not even faze the woman. She was after all, one of the rare civilians from whom keeping the secret was moot.

Off to one side was her goal. An older man with salt and pepper hair stood framed in the open doorway of his office, dividing his attention between her and the large starmap. An easy smile was on his face as he greeted her, sticking his hand out. "Doctor, good to see you again, step right in."

He ushered her in, closing the door behind them and motioned her to a chair before stepping around the desk. "So, Doctor, how have you been?"

"Please, call me Sarah. It's been good, actually. Just finished a dig in Peru, and I've already submitted my findings for publication."

General O'Neill smiled, "That's good, that's good. Call me Jack by the way. Nice to see you back on your feet. But? I sense a 'but' in there."

"General, I can't thank the Air Force and the Stargate Command enough for all the help getting me back on my feet and smoothing out the details of my return to civilian life and the academe, but..." she drew a deep breath before continuing.

"Over the past few months I've been having this feeling that I should be doing more. Don't get me wrong, I still love archaeology. But I also can't help but feel that what I've been doing seems... mundane."

Her eyes drifted down to her hands. "I can't help but feel that there should be other questions, other mysteries I should be seeking answers to. The ones that can keep our world safe."

Gen. O'Neill nodded sympathetically before speaking. "I understand how you feel, Sarah. That's the reason I stayed in this job instead of retiring. But you have to be sure you want to do this. It was just a fluke we got you back last time. If it happens again, we may not be so lucky."

Sarah gave him a a haunted look. "I remember everything Osiris did. Everything I did. I had thought I'd forgotten most of them, except for little fragments here and there. But lately the memories have been getting clearer."

"You don't owe us anything, Sarah. You weren't complicit with anything Osiris did. You can just walk away."

"I have to do this. It's as if I can't live with myself if I don't."

Gen. O'Neill sighed, "Alright. If you're sure, I have just the thing for someone of your skills." Reaching into one of his drawers, he pulled out a folder and handed it across his desk to her.

Intrigued, the archaeologist opened the folder and perused the contents, softly making comments to herself. Gen. O'Neill watched as she carefully read over reports compiled by Sam and her staff. The haunted look was gone, replaced by the detached look of a professional academic who was carefully absorbing the information before her. When it seemed she was done, he asked, "what do you think?"

"Fascinating. An interstellar civilization out on the rim. System Lords certainly never heard of them. At least, Osiris never did. And they're slowly making their way here? They believe Earth is a mere colony!" That last statement came with raised eyebrows.

"Ridiculous, I know. I notice you still don't completely rule out Goa'uld involvement."

"Osiris was out of circulation for thousands of years. Even if he wasn't, Goa'ulds have been known to keep secrets from each other," she shrugged. "You don't believe they're a threat, do you?"

"A threat? They're little more than a refugee fleet," the general said mildly. "If they present any kind of threat it would be to the current timetable we have for disclosure. No, that's not what we're concerned about."

"Everybody we have on site, Carter, her staff, Davis, Danny Boy, even Gant. They all agree it's all far too coincidental. The prevailing theory is that somebody has been leading the Colonials and maybe even the Cylons by the nose, pointing them towards Earth. We want to know who it is and why. If they're a threat to us, we want to know."

"That's what you want me to dig out."

"I'd like you to head up an archaeological survey of Kobol, according to them the homeworld of humanity. Check for clues on who these Lords of Kobol are and where they've gone. It's practically a given that they're an advanced race of some kind, so you know what to look for, technology, artifacts, records. Use your judgment."

"I'm in." Sarah smiled enthusiastically.

"Good. Our newest three-ought-four, tentatively named the Proteus under Captain Hunter should be almost ready. Her Asgard sensors should be able to pinpoint areas of interest even from orbit."

"Captain? Not Colonel? I sense a story there." She grinned playfully, the formerly serious tone of the conversation now giving way to light banter.

"Another time," the general groaned.

"You couldn't get me a ship crewed by the English?"

"Unfortunately, the brits are behind schedule on the HMS Hood. Plus they still haven't finalized their roster. Scuttlebutt is some blue-bloods want in."

"Blue bloods?"

"HRH's." O'Neill confirmed. "The younger one at least has infantry combat experience, but the older one's out of luck... No postings for SAR pilots on three-ought-fours."

"That's too bad."

"Either way, the War Office is still thinking it over. Not exactly a safe galaxy out there, as you know. And you did not hear any of this from me."

"No I didn't," she chuckled.

* * *

Junior Lieutenant Diane "Hardball" Seelix smiled at the familiar kick in the butt as the launch tube accelerated the Viper to combat speed before spitting it out the side of the Galactica. Frak she missed this. All those weeks cooped up all sweaty and grimy in the cramped confines of the Demetrius had left her on a ragged edge. In hindsight, she should not have been surprised things had gone down the way they had. Starbuck had been right. No point arguing about that now. She might have sounded seriously crazy, and it sounds crazy to think about it even now, but some higher power had chosen the class A nutjob to lead the Colonial remnant to the next critical step in their journey. Perhaps it had even been the Lords of Kobol themselves.

No matter who had led the Colonials to them, the Tau'ri were powerful. Powerful enough to keep the Cylons in line. An alliance with them could really help the Colonials. Now if only they could be convinced to finish off the Cylon threat once and for all. She did not think it was likely, but a girl can hope.

With a roar of RCS thrusters she banked and fell into formation behind and to the side of the lead for this CAP. "Showboat, Hardball. Joining formation."

"Copy, Hardball," Captain Marcia "Showboat" Case responded. "You sure you're up for this, Hardball? You didn't look all that great when you got back."

Seelix grinned. The other officer probably wasn't privy to all the details of what the Demetrius had been up to. But the appearances of the crew, not to mention the missing Raptor and personnel, were enough fuel for speculation. "Nah. I already had a few hours of racktime, and was just about ready to go nuts with boredom. To be honest I really just need to get back into things more than I need the sleep. Thanks for asking though."

"Anytime, Hardball."

As their patrol reached the rear and starboard end of the loose formation the civilian ships had arranged themselves in, they saw it. It looked as if the very fabric of space was being torn in a flash of green. From the tear emerged a small grey ship. As the tear closed, another ship, a twin to the first one, appeared and took position alongside.

"Frak me!" Showboat exclaimed. "What's that?"

"Looks like some funky kind of FTL. Those are Tau'ri ships though." Actually, Seelix had only seen them on the footage Athena had brought. She had stayed aboard the Demetrius when Starbuck and the others had gone to make contact. This was her first time seeing them in the flesh, so to speak.

"That new faction we were told to watch out for?"

"That'll be the one." Seelix confirmed.

"Better call this in to the Old Man, then. This'll be way above our paygrades."

* * *

"Hyperdrive powering down. Exit coordinates confirmed. Odyssey has decloaked and is joining formation."

Sam nodded her acknowledgment then asked. "What's the status on the Colonial fleet?"

"Multiple wormholes detected, it looks like the civilian ships are jumping away. They're not going very far, though." Hailey answered from the sensor console. "Galactica is launching fighters and warming primary batteries up."

_Not surprising. _"Status on Captain Thrace and her people?"

"Based on the timetable they gave us, we should only have been ahead of them by five minutes. They had to recharge their drives before the last jump to here."

"They could have done it in a lot less jumps according to our calculations." Daniel observed.

"Maybe they don't believe we know more about their FTL jumps than they do." Cam speculated.

"The calculations are fairly straightforward, sir." Hailey remarked. "All they have to do is make sure there isn't anything heavier than them at the other end. Otherwise, the distortion field won't be able to push the object away. Apart from that, their FTL navigation is pretty much point and shoot."

"In any case, shields up." Sam brought the conversation back on topic. "I doubt they'll fire first, but I'd feel better opening communications with Capt. Thrace around."

* * *

"You can't be seriously considering this."

The non-question was posed by the President of the Twelve Colonies to her own military commander. Daniel for himself was not surprised at the hostility in her tone. That the Cylon ships had been allowed to approach without being fired upon was a minor victory in of itself. Capt. Thrace had arrived on the scene without any mishap and after she making her report to her superiors, representatives both Cylon and Colonial had then gathered aboard the _Hammond_.

"Madam President." The Colonial Admiral addressed his civilian superior formally, "I wish it was as simple as that. The military value of the target they are proposing makes it very tempting indeed. Without Resurrection, they'd think twice before committing to any confrontation with us."

"We're frakked if we do, and frakked even worse if we don't." His second in command, a bald one-eyed officer with a seemingly perpetual bad mood summarized their situation succinctly. By the morose expression on Capt. Thrace's face she actually seemed to agree with the older man, and did not like it at all that she did. This despite the fact that she had essentially brought the proposal to the table.

"What about the billions dead on the Colonies?" The President spat. "Are you just going to dishonor their memories by working with their murderers? Need I remind you that they attacked us without warning?"

Daniel sighed. In a perfect universe, the Colonies and its remnant had every right to refuse the proposal put forth by the Cylon rebels. Realistically though, the long-term implications were undeniably attractive. He had worked with the military long enough to be able to see that. The problem was framing it in terms the... _emotionally overwrought..._ Colonials would find palatable.

"Admiral, I understand you fought in the first Cylon War yourself?." The colonial officer turned a calculating gaze on the Tau'ri archaeologist but did not himself reply. "He was a pilot, stationed aboard this very ship." His XO answered for him instead.

"But you mustered out not long after that?" Daniel asked again, and the older man nodded in response.

"Those who did stay on, they would no doubt have risen up the ranks. Eventually occupying ranking positions in your military high command, wouldn't you say?"Daniel pressed further as the other Tau'ri simply looked on curiously. Not quite sure where this line of questioning was headed, yet implicitly trusting of him as well.

"You could say that." The colonial admiral conceded the point.

"But you would have been on a first name basis with them by the time you rose through the ranks yourself?"

"Some of them." The admiral admitted as Daniel nodded. The Cylon delegates were by now watching him with curious expressions as well.

"So you would have been privy to any plans to cross the Armistice line in force and impose a more permanent solution on the Cylon nation?"

The admiral managed to maintain a stern expression on his face. His XO actually looked embarrassed. The President however, was glaring daggers. Admiral Adama tried to calm her down with a quiet look before answering. "I won't deny plans were made."

It was not long however before the President found her voice. "Are you saying we brought this upon ourselves?"

"I'm only saying that if things had gone differently it might well have been your military that would launch a preemptive strike on the Cylons. They simply beat you to the punch." Daniel answered evenly.

"I'm not saying the genocide of the Colonies was justified. Certainly millions did not deserve to die. But, given your mutual hatred of each other perhaps it was inevitable that one would eventually come after the other. So long as you hold on to these hatreds, you will always feel threatened by each other. And this fear will continually sap your strength. Keeping you from rebuilding, from healing." Daniel continued as the president simply glared back at him. There was not much she could say in rebuttal, though she still remained defiant.

Daniel turned to the Cylon delegation. "Am I wrong in assuming that those who masterminded the Fall of the Colonies are the same ones who favor continued aggression?"

The Cylons shared looks before Natalie Faust replied. "All models contributed to the overall plan after consensus was reached, but the initial proposal to attack the Colonies was made by the Ones. They lead the other faction."

"So there you have it. That Cylon party most responsible for instigating the attack will be the ones hurt the most if you agree to this joint operation. They are the masterminds while the others were just accessories."

The President now had a calculating look on her face. "I will agree to it in principle. I don't like it but I suppose we have to be realistic. There will likely be a lot of noise from the Quorum, though. Will you be contributing your own forces to the operation?"

Colonel Davis answered. "If both parties are in, yes we will."

"How do we get close enough to hit it?" Admiral Adama mused. "What defenses are we expecting? And of course all this discussion will be useless if the target isn't where you say it is."

"Very well." Natalie replied. "We will provide the coordinates so you can send a recon mission."

"In the interest of cooperation and mutual trust, I suggest the Raptor be crewed by representatives from all three of our factions." Colonel Carter suggested with a smile.

"So are we agreed then?" Admiral Adama asked the assembled delegations.

"One last thing." Colonel Carter spoke with a strange expression on her face. "If the Tau'ri are to participate, we want to make one small change to the overall plan."

"And that is...", the colonial admiral asked suspiciously.

"We don't destroy the Hub. We capture it intact." She smiled.

* * *

To say that Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson had misgivings about this whole reconnaissance mission was probably the understatement of the year. The crew was mixed, with two each from the three factions. To her side was Major Jennifer Hailey from the Tau'ri, a solid officer from what she had seen so far.

It was her companion that was suspect. Captain Satterfield looked too much like Boomer for Racetrack's comfort. The fact that the Cylon contingent also had an Eight, along with a Six, only served to heighten the suspicion. All three were huddled around Hamish "Skulls" McCall at the sensor station.

"Jump completed. Coordinates confirmed."

"Looks like we're here." Major Hailey remarked. "Look at the size of that thing."

"Even bigger than a frakking baseship." Racetrack agreed, suppressing a shiver.

"That's the Hub alright." The Six said, coming up between them for a look.

"I see a few baseships for escort. Skulls, what've we got?"

"Dradis has six baseships. No signs of damage."

"We didn't seize any of the escort ships for the civil war. Those baseships will be fresh." The Eight muttered.

"Still sure you want to take it intact?" Racetrack asked the Tau'ri officer. The old man had not had to spell it out for her. She was to find out discretely why the Tau'ri wanted to capture rather than simply destroy it.

"Not my call to make. Satterfield what do our toys see?" The Tau'ri had brought their own sensor pods, jury-rigged to hardpoints on the Raptor's exterior hull. Satterfield was manning them from a tablet computer they had brought for the purpose.

"We have something on subspace, I've pinpointed the transceiver array they're using. Looks like your theory pans out, Major." The Tau'ri officer who looked eerily like a Cylon skinjob replied.

"What is she saying?" Racetrack asked her seatmate, totally lost.

"From what the Cylons described, the Hub uses some form of faster than light communication system to update the rest of the fleet with its location. Our sensor pods are listening devices designed to detect this comm system and identify it." Major Hailey explained. "We had a number of ideas for the type of FTL communication system being used. As it turns out, it's similar to what we use."

Racetrack left the fact that the Tau'ri had a faster than light communication system for another conversation. They were that much advanced, anyway. Instead she focused on the capabilities of Cylon technology. "Waitaminute. You're saying the Cylons have a way of communicating that travels faster than light?"

"It's highly inefficient. We can only send short bursts of information, like coordinates. It'll be a while before we can do real time communications with it." The Six admitted.

"Is there any way to disable the jump drive from outside?" Hailey asked the Cylon.

"There is. We can give you the schematics." The Cylon replied.

"Then, we board it."

"We can send centurions to help." Six offered.

"A discussion for another time. For now, I'd say we have what we came for."

"Skulls, you heard the major, begin jump prep. We're heading back." Racetrack called out to her ECO and navigator.

* * *

"So the Cylon information pans out." Colonel Paul Davis remarked as he read over Major Hailey and Captain Satterfield's reports. "Sam, are you ready?"

"The Asgard Core has already been transferred aboard and integrated into the Hammond's systems. Once there, the additional processing power should be all it will take to get what we need from the Hub."

"What about our cargo?"

"We still have about twenty percent of the relief supplies to offload. After that we just take in the Colonial contingent and we're off."

"Good." Colonel Davis nodded, before turning to address the screen where Doctor Lam was on videoconference from aboard the Galactica. "How are the relief efforts going?"

"We've already setup in the starboard flight pod, and it's pretty much what we expected. Widespread malnutrition and multiple mineral and vitamin deficiencies, not to mention PTSD. The problem is aggravated by the fact that the number of qualified doctors in the entire fleet can be counted on one hand. It's taking my entire staff, plus the few on loan from the Hammond and Odyssey's regular medical personnel just to catch up." Davis sighed. The good doctor had requested the additional people as soon as she got the lowdown from the Colonials themselves. And it seemed it was still not enough.

"What about security? Any issues so far?"

"Nothing yet. We're still playing it by ear, although everybody agrees it's only a matter of time."

The Colonials had not been happy to admit it, but there was a large number of firearms and angry people to use them currently unaccounted for. Such was not always the case. In the early days of the exodus, immediately after the Fall, firearms were tightly controlled. Outside the Galactica's armories, there was hardly anything larger than a handgun. Even those tended to be tightly controlled by the officers and crew of the ships that had them.

New Caprica changed everything. As part of the rescue effort, weapons were distributed to the various resistance cells. Once they had made good their escape, few ever bothered to return them. Of particular concern was the group known as the Sons of Ares. A radical, violently anti-monotheistic group that was known for hoarding its own weapons and supplies. Often taking either at gunpoint.

Such was the reason why the primary entry point for the relief supplies was heavily guarded by SGC marines. Unfortunately, the Colonial government was adamant that non-lethal force was to be used as much as possible. That meant intars and zats. Lethal force was still authorized but only as a last resort.

Colonel Davis then turned to Vala mal Doran. "Any comments?"

"You do realize they'll probably try to double-cross each other?"

"Right." Cam sighed. There was so much mutual distrust it was almost predictable in a morbidly funny way. "Any idea how that's gonna play out?"

"It's a matter of bargaining chips." Vala grinned.

"If this final five are still alive and know who or what they are, they are probably in hiding. If the Colonials get names, they can simply hold them and interrogate them. Once they get the way to Earth," Vala raised both hands mimicking quotation marks. "They can just leave the Cylons in the dust."

"What about the Cylons?" Daniel asked, his curiosity piqued.

"They know what the Colonials are likely to do. They're not stupid. They also have more targets to shoot at."

"Take the civilian ships hostage?" Colonel Gant on videoconference from aboard the Odyssey was clearly aghast.

Vala simply shrugged.

"We can protect the civilian ships if it comes down to a shoot out. But unless we get the Colonials to concede, we'll just be seen as favoring them." Sam concluded with obvious disgust.

"Oi." Cam sighed, for a moment channeling the current head of Homeworld Command as beeps sounded off from Sam's tablet.

"Well, well." Sam muttered. "The Colonial President has requested an audience with the Hybrid. And the Cylon leadership is requesting an audience with the admiral aboard the Galactica. Both are requesting escorts as per protocol."

"Let the games begin." If possible, Vala's grin got even wider.

* * *

Second Lieutenant Anderson Joseph "Andy" Spencer had grown up on stories about SG-1. For years everybody thought his father was simply going mad. Despite the level of detail in his stories.

Eventually they found out that the elder Spencer had the genetic marker to operate technology left behind by an ancient race and had used such technology to forge a telepathic link with the original Commanding Officer of SG-1. This was how he learned all about their adventures. In return the aforementioned Air Force officer found relaxation in the inherently less stressful life of a small town barber.

Those events in his youth had inspired him to attend Air Force ROTC in college. When he tested positive for the same gene his father had, he was all but guaranteed a slot with the SGC where such a naturally occurring trait was considered extremely valuable. He would never learn that the SGC had originally intended to assign him to the Pegasus Galaxy, where his Ancient gene was most useful. But that was okay since shortly before his graduation, Atlantis returned to Earth.

That led his current circumstances. Since Atlantis did not have the juice to go anywhere at the moment, the powers that be had decreed that a portion of its fleet of gateships be dispersed to the various 304's to serve as shuttlecraft. By a stroke of luck he was assigned to the Hammond, commanded by one of the original members of SG-1. Also by a stroke of luck, an earlier mission had gotten him into an _extremely_ close encounter with a human form Cylon who called herself Lida. Thus earning him the callsign "Riker".

_It could have been worse._ He thought inwardly as he powered the gateship down and opened the rear hatch. His passenger for today looked a lot like Lida, which made him mildly uncomfortable. Fortunately, she was not alone. Colonel Mitchell had brought a full squad to escort her. Since this area of the flight deck was cordoned off for the Tau'ri relief goods, the place was crawling with SGC personnel. They would not need to leave a guard. A discreet nod from one of the marines told him they would take care of it.

Clipping his P90-TR to his vest, he set off after Colonel Mitchell and his squad, taking the rear position. They were met by the ornery Executive Officer of the Galactica, Colonel Saul Tigh. He also had a squad of his own marines with him, and they proceeded deeper into the bowels of the ship.

They had not gotten far when the Cylon stopped. As he craned his neck for a look, he realized that she had stopped for a child. A little girl. He wasn't quite sure what was special with the girl, but the Lida-lookalike seemed quite taken with her.

It was not long before Athena Agathon arrived, presumably the child's mother. Surprisingly, she lost no time drawing her sidearm on the other Cylon. In response the escorts also raised their weapons.

Colonel Tigh ordered a stand down, but everybody seemed to be mesmerized by the irate Cylon. Colonel Mitchell was trying to calm Athena down, standing between her and the other Cylon, but she was not having it. She ordered another man, an enlisted, presumably, to take the child. The whole time she kept her eyes and her gun on her fellow Cylon, even after the child was gone.

"You are never gonna take my child." Athena said determinedly before shoving Colonel Mitchell aside and double-tapping the Cylon leader.

Immediately two of the Colonial marines moved forward to disarm her while the SGC escort quickly closed ranks around the fallen Cylon. Colonel Mitchell knelt over her and covered her body with his, quickly tapping his earpiece. "Hammond, this is SG-One Niner. Code Blue! Code Blue! Request emergency beam out directly to sickbay!"


	9. Chapter 8

It ain't mine, because if it were we'd see more 302's doing hyperspace jumps!

Not intended for profit. If you sue me, all you'll get is the laptop I typed this out on, and my collection of questionable err... material.

Thank you for all the nice feedback. All your comments make me feel good. Don't you worry I do have a clear idea of how this all will end.

* * *

Saul Tigh watched the Old Man chew out Athena and not for the first time cursed himself for letting the shooting happen on his watch. _Visions! Zeus almighty! _If it wasn't the President on her dying leader act it was some other nutjob like Starbuck following visions. _What was this fleet coming to? It was frakkin' insane! Granted Starbuck's sanity had never been all there, but Athena? A Cylon?_

Morosely he wondered what that made him. A Cylon with an addiction to alcohol. _Great, just frakking great._

He finished his internal monologue just in time to see Athena escorted off to the brig.

"Any word on the Cylon?" He asked his old friend.

"Tau'ri say she's still under surgery. Too early to tell if she'll live. They don't blame us. They say these are the types of incidents the protocols were designed to minimize if not completely avoid."

"What do the Cylons say?" Saul wondered aloud.

"Didn't say anything. They just asked for the details of what happened and then went ahead and elected a replacement. A Six by the name of Sonja."

"Gods damn it Bill, you should have seen it. Just disappeared in a flash of blue light. An emergency something they called it. Directly to sickbay."

"Point to point matter transportation." Bill mused. "They finally admitted to having the technology. All it took was a real emergency. Sounds like something out of a frakking science fiction movie if you ask me."

"Amen to that. Now that the cat's out of the bag, what's to stop them from using it to infiltrate the fleet?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure they haven't infiltrated the fleet before now." The admiral shook his head. "It's what I would've done. And nothing we can do about it if they did."

"Frak, Bill. We'd be helpless against it." He paused then tried another tack. "Ever want to try it for yourself?"

"Having yourself disassembled into your component atoms and then sent to another place does not sound particularly appealing to me." Bill grimaced. "Still, the Tau'ri seem to consider it reliable enough."

Saul could only grunt in agreement.

"Now, the Cylons have asked to postpone the joint exercise for a few hours. And one other thing, Saul." The admiral took a deep breath before continuing. "No more unsupervised visits with the prisoner." His voice hardened. "I don't know what you get up to in there and frankly I don't care. As long as it stops. The last thing we need is another embarrassment."

Saul just nodded, a shocked expression on his face. Whether it was that his friend and commander knew, or that he had chosen to do something about it, Bill did not particularly care. He just wanted it stopped.

* * *

Awareness came slowly to the young man. He was on a bed. It was thicker, firmer and softer than his old bunk aboard the Old Girl. That pretty much meant it was superior in every way. He was in a reclining position, his upper body rising at an angle from his legs. That was a feature he normally ascribed to hospital beds. The smell, a sterile, antiseptic scent seemed to confirm this.

There was a stiff board under his right arm and a needle in his wrist. His leg was a bit numb, but he was pretty sure it was also elevated.

He opened his eyes. _That shade of gray isn't used on battlestars. Or any colonial ship for that matter._

"You're awake."

The voice made him start. He craned his neck to find the source. An Eight. _A skinjob! _"Where the frak am I? Who the frak are you?"

"Sssshhh," the Eight spoke soothingly, then placed an arm on his chest. "Do not be alarmed. You're safe." She then proceeded to push a button on his bed.

Too weak to fight back, all Felix could do was look at her until whoever the button summoned arrived.

"Aahh you're awake." The new arrival spoke in a congenial tone. He was an older man, dressed in some type of blue uniform with a white doctor's coat over it. His two companions, a man and a woman were dressed identically in blue scrubs. He also belatedly realized that there had always been two black clad men in the room with the Eight and him. Those two gave off the unmistakable air of security personnel. The fact that none of the five were any of the seven known Cylon models was a great relief to Felix. They did not look like any Colonials he knew either, but the disparate faces at least did much to put him in a listening mood.

"I am Doctor McBride, and these are James and Marie." He indicated the two flanking him before continuing. "You are aboard the Hammond. You're safe with us here. As for where we are, perhaps it would be better if we show you." He nodded towards a panel on the wall, silently asking his permission.

Felix nodded, intrigued despite himself. The fleet did not have a ship named Hammond. The doctor walked over to it to push a button and the wall slid upwards to reveal a huge window. It showed a view of open space. Off in the distance was the Galactica, with the civilian fleet arrayed around it. The sight brought tears to his eyes.

"You were shot. We don't know the full details, but your comrades asked for our help." The doctor started explaining once Felix had visibly calmed down. "We managed to save your leg, though it will be a while before you're able to walk normally. This young lady has pretty much stayed by your side since she got here."

"It's me, Amanda." The eight introduced herself. "We knew each other on New Caprica," was all she said as explanation. Felix simply nodded, still overwhelmed.

"Can I see my people?"

The doctor smiled before answering. "There are a few colonial military personnel in the port side Cargo Bay preparing for a joint operation. You can meet them later. For now, I'd recommend a meal and some toilet time. You've been asleep for the better part of seventy-two hours, after all."

Amanda wheeled the newly fed and bathed Felix into the port side cargo bay, nodding to the pair of uniformed Tau'ri soldiers standing guard. The cargo bay was spacious. Up until recently it had held food, medicine and assorted emergency supplies for the Colonial civilian population. Or so she had been told.

At the moment it was a hub of activity as representatives from all three factions prepared for the upcoming exercises. Exercises to prepare them for the joint undertaking of seizing the Resurrection Hub. Across her Tau'ri soldiers gathered around a table loading ammunition and organizing their equipment. Off to the side from them Centurions stood in a row as human form Cylons conferred quietly.

Off to her side Colonial military personnel stayed together, checking their equipment while watching the Cylons suspiciously. A cheer rose up from this group as they recognized who she had with her. Smiling gratefully at the Colonial who came forward to take over steering Felix' wheelchair around she took a closer look at the cargo bay.

At the far end to her right was the cargo bay doors. Right now it was open to space, an energy field of some sort keeping the atmosphere in. A not so subtle reminder of who the masters of this vessel were. There were actually a few people, Colonials and Cylons both, gathered at the opening, watching in fascination as a Cylon Heavy Raider cleared the threshold to maneuver for a landing next to others of its kind. The Six who disembarked took a look around before taking off at a run and literally jumping into the arms of a Tau'ri officer, to the amusement of the his peers.

The back end of the cargo bay had a small firing range where the Tau'ri had tested their ammunition against deactivated Centurions. Those Centurions now lay in pieces, their armor riddled with holes from the lighter yet better penetrating Tau'ri bullets. Next to it was an enclosed area where Tau'ri in full battle gear queued in groups of four or five. From what she had heard, the inside was made up to look like the corridors of a Cylon ship, with random targets popping out at certain points. It allowed the Tau'ri to familiarize themselves with fighting and moving as a group aboard Cylon vessels. She felt a tight, wolfish smile creep into her features at the knowledge that the Tau'ri were taking this operation seriously. _Oh yes, this reunion was going to be a bitch._

* * *

"Your thoughts, gentlemen?" The president asked the two men seated before her.

"The Tau'ri are very good, very professional. They know their craft and how to get the most out of it." The admiral observed. The scientist simply grunted in agreement, having been conscripted, mostly against his will, into watching the joint exercise.

"With a little practice they can easily match our kill ratio against Cylon Raiders." The admiral declared, and the president simply nodded. It was not really surprising. The Hammond's crew seemed to be a professional military unit, as opposed to a civilian crew. Taking that into account, it was not so far-fetched that they could be trained to the same degree of proficiency as the CDF. Especially given the latter's currently reduced circumstances.

"How do their planes measure up?"

_"Not very well. Although they are __undoubtedly _strong."

Just like that, _she _was in the seat behind him. The scientist shivered as he felt _her_ breath on his ear...

"Doctor Baltar? Care to elaborate?" The admiral was urging him to continue, and the scientist bit back a curse as he realized he had parroted the words that only he had heard.

"Their... their level of technology is inconsistent," he began, stammering as he attempted to regain his composure. "On the one hand we have their warship, extremely powerful for its size, at the other end are the fighters. They're bigger, with bigger engines, but have less acceleration, and only about as much firepower as one of our own vipers. For a far greater amount of raw materials. And not inexpensive materials at that, something in those hulls makes them almost undetectable thru DRADIS. And we still don't know how much armor protection it gives them."

_"__God helps those who help themselves and they have taken this to heart. _They have the ability to break free from whatever path is set for them, forging their own and dragging others along with them. They are not to be underestimated." He paused, listening to _her_ and fighting the urge to squirm as _she_ sashayed around his chair to sit on his lap, leaning and pressing _her_ body against him. The two older people simply passed off his obvious discomfort for his usual eccentricity and waited for him to continue.

"One would think they haven't been in space more than a few years. I can certainly think up a scenario that would support that! They don't even seem to have a grasp of zero-g combat maneuvering!"

"Excuse me?" The president was surprised. One would think such an obviously powerful space faring culture would have a grasp of … that.

"The fighters, these 'Wingsharks' maneuver as if they're in an atmosphere," the younger man explained. "Suggesting they have some esoteric technology that allows them to do that, that they acquired _before_ they went into space."

The admiral almost kicked himself as he realized the scientist was right. It was one of the first lessons taught in viper training. Space and atmospheric maneuvering were entirely different pyramid courts.

"How many of these 'Wingsharks' do they have?" The president asked, using the name the Viper pilots had given the Tau'ri fighters, after winged predators that soared over the seas of Picon, preying on flying and swimming animals alike.

"Not many, no more than a standard size CDF squadron per warship." The admiral supplied.

"So we could conceivably overwhelm their fighter wing but not the warship." The two men nodded.

The president sighed. "They don't believe in the Gods and don't believe in Kobol. They do at least believe we are related to them but that theirs is the first homeworld. What do you make of that?"

"With respect Madame President," the scientist began. "They claim to have archaeological and fossil records dating several tens of thousands of years old. If I see it, I'd be more than willing to believe it."

"The Scriptures don't really delve much into the specifics of how we began on Kobol. Beyond 'Life here began out there', I'd have trouble believing any of it is meant to be literal. For all we know that first line may also mean out there outside of Kobol." Added the admiral, perhaps the only one of the three with a copy of said scriptures.

"Me too, to be honest. But the Quorum is up in arms about it. The more conservative representatives, that is. The Tau'ri refuse to discuss religion and have kept all dealings with us purely secular and formal, and that's kept them to the level of low grumbling for now. But as relations with them deepen it's bound to come up eventually."

"The Cylons know something, but won't say anything. I wonder if they even still believe in the old gods. They certainly seem familiar enough with some of them, but as for actually believing in their power... What if they're Monads, for example?" The scientist asked.

"Personally, I wouldn't care." The admiral opined. "They are not the Monads we knew from before the Cylon War."

"The Quorum will have a collective fit though..."

* * *

"Ok people, settle down!" Colonel Cameron Mitchell called out, catching everybody's attention. The Hammond's primary conference room was packed to capacity with SGC personnel, Cylons and Colonials. Everyone who would be participating in the joint operation. By a stroke of luck he was the senior-most officer participating in Operation Lazarus Unbound and would be overall in-charge. He and Hailey had actually flipped a coin to determine who would lead the boarding parties and who would lead the Air Wing, and the almighty quarter had decided he would do the former.

As part of the preparation for the joint operation, all three factions had just concluded combat maneuver exercises, to test how the combined Air Wing would perform against the expected opposition. The Air Force pilots had acquitted themselves very well, if he could say so himself. The kill ratio had exceeded ten to one. The Colonials had done slightly better, of course, but their pilots trained to fight Cylon Raiders almost exclusively. F302's by comparison had a slightly more varied rogues gallery to contend with. Still, he liked those Vipers. Very sleek, very efficient. With fangs to match.

As he got the debriefing started, he paid attention to both Cylons and Colonials as they critiqued his pilots and their planes. Despite what he thought, these were the experts. Between the two groups no one could claim to know more about Cylon Raiders, Baseships and how they would fare against them. Seizing that Hub was important. He knew why, even if they did not tell their new allies. If this worked out the local group of _galaxies_ would benefit. Failure was not an option.

* * *

The man stepped into the chamber and waited for the bulkhead to be sealed behind him. Around him, this particular room had obviously been claimed as a home by the motley group before him. The room was not unique in that regard. The Galactica had several unused bulkheads in what used to be the port flight pod. Well they had been unused at the start of the Exodus. Now they were claimed by the various groups able to hold on to them.

"What's the news, my brother?" His comrade spoke from the center of the room.

"The Tau'ri are almost ready to go. There was a joint exercise earlier, Tau'ri learning to work together with our Vipers and some Cylon Heavy Raiders. They will be using one of their ships."

"Good." The man nodded, as did several others in the room. "Once one of their ships is gone, our task will be much easier."

"Do you really believe they're from Earth?" One of the other men asked the one sitting in the middle.

"Where else could they be from?"

"Why don't they just say so?" Another one asked. "They never admit they're from Earth. Always referring to themselves and their home as the Tau'ri."

"Because they no longer see us as their brothers. They no longer believe in the gods. They are monads and don't want to share their blessings with us." The leader spoke disgust evident, looking each man in the room in the eyes.

"What about the blue flash of light that rumors say they used?" Asked yet another.

"Don't believe everything you hear. Such a thing is impossible. The gods would never allow mere mortals to have such power."

"But the gods will be on our side. We just have to prove ourselves worthy, and the location of Earth will be given to us!"

Cheering filled the room at these words.

* * *

The light startled her. She certainly had not expected that. She opened her eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs around her consciousness.

"Welcome home, D'Anna."

She turned to see the source of the voice. A One. One that seemed to be in a lecturing mood. _Just frakking great._

"You told me I'd never have to go through this again." A hint of surliness crept into her voice.

Cavil exchanged looks with an Eight before replying. "I lied."

D'Anna frowned, forcing her still sluggish mind to look past the One's words to the truth. "You thought you were putting me away forever. So what changed?"

"War. A genuine Cylon civil war. Ones and Fours and Fives against Twos and Sixes and Eights that objected to your... retirement. Now your supporters are working with humans against all the rest of us. All in your name."

D'Anna's mind reeled at what she learned. She definitely had not expected that. She turned away from Cavil hoping it was not true. Then she realized there was an Eight, a supposed rebel, in the chamber with them.

"Boomer's an Eight." D'Anna locked eyes with Boomer. "Shouldn't she be on the other side?"

Behind her, Cavil smirked. "Boomer's my pet Eight. She's seen the light of reason. And an Eight can make a passionate ally."

D'Anna kept her eyes on Boomer. "Oh, until she sees something shiny." She countered with more than a hint of sarcasm before turning to lie once more on her back. "Why'd you bring me back anyway?"

"I brought you to heal us, sister, and end this shameful war."


	10. Chapter 9

Neither Stargate:SG1 nor BSG:2003 is mine. If they were, the Valkyrie would have more guns facing forward than backward.

**Werebane:** Yes, Vipers have hardpoints for external ordinance. Notably in canon it was Vipers packing nukes that actually destroyed the Hub.

As always all the good feedback you've been giving are much appreciated. Happy Halloween everyone!

* * *

The Hammond exited Hyperspace at the projected edge of the Hub's sensor range.

"Exit coordinates confirmed. We have the Hub on sensors. Six escort Baseships detected." Navigation called out.

Sam acknowledge him with a nod. They were right where they wanted to be. "Let's get this show on the road, then. Lower shields, launch fighters and transfer power to Plasma Beam Cannons."

"Aye sir."

As one 302's, vipers, heavy raiders and raptors disengaged the clamps holding them onto the Hammond's outer hull, assuming whatever velocity the Hammond imparted to them. Suggested by Captain Agathon, this was the quickest way to launch all of the smaller craft at once. And so the Hammond had stopped a few lightyears out and let them piggyback the rest of the way in. The larger ship would be vulnerable for the few seconds it took all of them to move past where the shields would be, but the risk was judged to be minimal considering the distances the raiders and any missile fire would have to cross.

"Fighter wing reports launch ops completed. Shields are back to one hundred percent."

"Very well," Sam acknowledged. As planned, the Heavy Raiders activated their systems first, broadcasting on Cylon IFF to throw them off guard, and allow the strike force to creep closer with stealthed 302's providing escort. The Hammond's shields dampened her emissions, but the vipers and raptors would have to rely on inertia at this stage to move closer while avoiding detection.

"Fire PBC's at predesignated targets, then start beaming our boarding parties in." Sam ordered, moving the plan to stage two. Three Plasma Beams crossed the distance between the Hammond and the Hub. One burrowed into the ship to punch out the other side, surgically piercing the FTL core and rendering it inert. Another cut off the subspace transceiver at the top of the cathedral like superstructure, while a third cut off one of the external pylons used by the reactionless drives. The Hub was dead in the water.

The reaction was instantaneous. Baseships started moving to screen the Hub, raiders and missiles launching. In response the vipers and raptors finally activated their systems, racing forward to intercept. "Set course for Baseship One. Load antifighter munitions on tubes one to eight and fire when ready. Railguns and pulse cannons on point defense."

One of the upgrades the Hammond had received after Icarus was that half of her railguns had been replaced with pulse cannons. These were upscaled production models of the X-699 energy weapon, itself a descendant of Jay Felger's project. The prototypes on the Hammond took design cues from salvaged Asgard, Wraith, Hebridan, Goa'uld, and a whole host of other alien variations, along with working schematics of the Destiny's weapons that they had managed to dig out of the Atlantis database. The Hammond was only a testbed for now. If successful, a larger deployment was intended across Earth's fleet, though Earth had no plans for the moment to completely retire their railguns. The simple fact was that most of the factions currently hostile to Earth used energy weapons and therefore configured their armor and shielding to protect primarily against those same energy weapons. It gave Earth's high velocity projectile weapons a distinct and penetrating advantage in ship to ship slugging matches.

* * *

"Something's wrong." Boomer was monitoring the external sensors through the data stream. She could not put her finger on exactly _what_ was wrong however, only that something was.

**"**You've gotta speak to the Twos and Sixes and Eights and tell them they've gone too far." Cavil all but commanded.

"No." D'Anna all but moaned. This One was clearly trying to recruit her for his own purposes and she was not having it. "Why didn't you ask about the Final Five? You never ask about them."

"That's because I don't believe we're meant to know them," Cavil stated matter of factly, trying to inject as much authority as he could into his voice.

"Well, I'll tell you. I will tell you, I'll start shouting out their names." D'Anna growled. "Why do you risk it?"

"Are you going to help end this war or are you useless?" Cavil asked, patience exhausted.

"Twenty-five Heavy Raiders just appeared on DRADIS, heading our way." Boomer was perplexed. As a Raptor pilot she was infinitely familiar with DRADIS systems and the way these Heavy Raiders appeared, no sign of a jump, had her concerned.

"Oh, the inhibition's been lifted..." D'Anna marveled, tuning out the One as she realized she could now _think_ about the Final Five. "Oh, I sense it."

"The Heavy Raiders aren't alone!" Boomer exclaimed as the Hub shuddered and she switched to visual scopes. "They've got vipers, raptors and Tau'ri ships with them. They've crippled the Hub." She looked at Cavil, fear evident on her face.

"That would be mass murder." Cavil said, face aghast. He leaned down on his hands over D'Anna, now more than ever desperate to get her on his side. "Death would be permanent for all of us," he said, trying to impress upon her how desperate the situation had become. "They've gone insane..."

"Permanent death?" D'Anna frowned. "Well, that makes this all the more meaningful." Her left hand shot out from under the surface of the resurrection tank. Clamping around the One's windpipe, she slammed his face down on the tank's edge with a mighty tug, snapping his neck in the process. She then shoved him away from the tank for good measure. D'Anna closed her eyes, relief at being free of the One's nattering evident on her face. If Boomer was inclined to avenge the Cavil, she was past the point of caring. Instead Boomer just ran off. D'Anna's eyebrow arched as she threw a glance at the chamber's exit. That was a surprise.

* * *

The One paused at the peculiar sound and turned, only to see a flash of light from which materialized a centurion. A centurion with several people crouched around it facing outwards. He all but slammed his hand into the datastream.

"Stop him!"

He screamed as an energy bolt of some kind slammed into him, forcing what felt like all of his muscles to seize up at the same time. The One fell to the floor writhing in pain yet also obviously still far from subdued. Several soldiers moved forward to clamp cuffs onto his wrists and ankles.

"Did he get anything out?" Cameron Mitchell asked the Six who had now placed her hand on the interface the One had just been using. Then bit back a curse as he realized part of the answer was in fact very noisily coming closer. Judging by the sound of metallic feet, a number of centurions were now converging on the Command Node they had beamed into. Quickly sharing looks with his team, he took the Six by hand to take cover, readying his G36K. Just in time for two centurions to burst into the open doorway, only to fall down to gunfire from a combination of Colonial and Tau'ri weapons. They were quickly replaced by two more, which after falling was replaced by yet another two more.

"Call for backup!" Vala instructed the radio communications operator assigned to their team. The airman did so, but in the mean time more and more Cylons arrived.

"Fire in the hole!"

One of the Tau'ri soldiers fired a grenade from the under-slung launcher of his M4A1 grenadier. The effect was immediate. The grenade flew right between the two that were currently in the doorway to detonate against the wall behind them. The shrapnel and hot gases exploded outward, quickly shredding the two it had bypassed and a few others still out in the corridor. It bought them time as the wreckage started hampering the other centurions trying to force their way in.

Time enough for other boarding teams to assist. Another warning cry sounded out from outside the room followed by another explosion. Gunfire sounded, and Cam grinned as he recognized the sound of SGC issue P90's and M4A1's. The entire firefight took less than two minutes.

"Team One this is Team Niner, do you copy, over?"

"Team Niner this is Team One, we lost the centurion but otherwise we're all here. Is that you outside?" Cam replied. Team Niner was led by Lt. Andy _'Riker'_ Spencer. And the Six that had attached herself(in more ways than one) to him. "Why don't you all come on in, over."

"Roger." Team Niner walked in, gingerly side-stepping the wrecks of centurions now littering the corridor, just in time to hear the Six curse. She had her hand on the watery interface.

"What happened?" Cam asked the Cylon.

"Frakking One started a purge of the entire resurrection database," she replied, eyes still closed. "Then he locked everybody else out… There. I've managed to hack past his encryption, but that's not all he did."

It was a few more seconds before she opened her eyes. "D'Anna had already been resurrected when we got here, so he went ahead and purged everybody else. It was almost seventy percent complete. As if that's not enough he also corrupted the templates used to grow more bodies, and the nutrient flow that's keeping the other model Three bodies alive. We have enough bodies for the Threes we _can_ resurrect, but not much more."

The other Six nodded, tears in her eyes. Resurrection was now well and truly lost to them. On top of that, even more of their sisters had been figuratively killed for no other reason than just to spite them.

"Nasty piece of work, isn't he?" Lieutenant Spencer mirrored her thoughts as he placed his arm around her shoulders to comfort her while eyeing the now bound and gagged One with distaste. "Not nice at all." Vala agreed. The other soldiers kept their faces grim.

Cam let the silence hang for a moment before clearing his throat. "Down to business, people. You said D'Anna had been resurrected?" The Six nodded and Cam continued. "Then what say you take us down to meet her so we can tell her the bad news. We can leave the centurion and a couple of people to secure this location."

"There's another thing." The Six spoke again. "The logs say Boomer was here with the Ones. No record of any Raptor or Heavy Raider launching so she could still be here."

"Where's the closest bay from D'Anna's location?" Lida asked, now having regained herself.

"Bay Alpha three."

"We're closer than she is. I can get there and stop her." She said, determination blazing in her eyes. _Riker_ threw a look at Cam asking for permission, and the older officer nodded.

* * *

Basestar One had not lasted long under Plasma Beam Cannon fire. The Asgard weapons were not even at their highest setting. Not the same settings used on Asuran and Wraith warships, despite their size. Even Cylons admitted that the pride of their fleet had a glass jaw compared to battlestars. At this setting a barrage was enough to destroy one baseship, with only a few seconds needed to charge for another barrage.

"Multiple wormhole jumps detected! We're surrounded, Baseships are firing multiple missile salvos. Nukes inbound!"

Sam grit her teeth. The Cylons had used the tactical advantage of their FTL drives to quickly surround the Hammond, hoping to smother it in missiles. Four Baseships were aligning for alpha strikes, top and bottom sections rotating independently to present the most number of missile tubes in the shortest amount of time. This was in addition to the Tau'ri battlecruiser's current target. That one was also firing as many missiles as it could, frantically trying to delay the inevitable.

"Evasive maneuvers! Maintain course for Baseship Two. Weps! Load anti-fighter rounds on tubes one to eight and fire at will. Where are my Asgard beams?"

"Just finished charging," the weapons officer barked. "Firing now!"

Despite the anti-fighter designation the missiles themselves worked equally well against capital scale missiles. These arced toward the Cylon missiles, hoping to take the load off of the Hammonds overworked pulse and railgun batteries. But it was still not enough and several missiles still impacted the Hammond's shields, whittling them down a hundredths of a percent at a time. As explosions rocked Baseship Two and rendered it dead in the water the Hammond's bridge crew cheered.

* * *

Boomer ran. The Ones must have really stocked up on hate for D'Anna to summarily execute Cavil like that. Not that she could really blame her. Choosing the better part of valor she had decided to make a run for it. Explanations would have taken time. Time that was increasingly growing short due to the Tau'ri attack. It was only a matter of time before the Hub was either nuked or boarded. D'Anna didn't seem to be in a mood to listen to explanations anyway, and killing her at this point would have been counterproductive.

She had just cleared another intersection when she heard it. An odd humming sound. Her interest, and caution, piqued, she stopped, turning around to slowly tiptoe back to the intersection. Getting down to all fours, she silently crept to take a peek from almost floor level, and stifled a gasp as she saw _people filling the previously empty corridor. _Two were wearing familiar colonial battle dress uniforms. Still more people were also in battle dress, but of a different, unfamiliar cut, possibly Tau'ri. There was a Two and a centurion with red paint on its chest plate.

_Boarding parties!_ This made her escape even more paramount. Creeping back slowly and as stealthily as she could manage, she tiptoed back several meters before going to a flat out run.

* * *

"I can't shake him!"

"Vampire 8, Hardball. Break right on my mark. Mark!"

The 302 broke on command and allowed the helpful viper to mow down his pursuer.

"Thanks Hardball!"

"No problem, now your turn. Got an itch on my tail."

"Gladly."

The 302 simply climbed into a tight loop above the viper, quickly removing the raider taking potshots behind it. Hardball grinned at the maneuver. Those _wingsharks_ were something else. She had picked it out by the emblem depicting a human's front teeth framed by overdeveloped canines and the number on its wings, but it had paid off for her as well.

"Now where the heck are we?" Her new friend asked.

"We're done for this wave." She answered matter of factly.

"Seriously?" The Tau'ri pilot was incredulous, by now no doubt checking his sensor screens.

"Yep. Raiders attack in waves. We're done with this one so we have some time to catch our breaths before the next one gets in."

"You're right." The Tau'ri muttered as he maneuvered his fighter back into formation among his squadron-mates. Hardball did the same.

"Vampire Lead, Space Bat Lead. Looks like they have the Hammond surrounded." 410th Space Fighter Squadron "Space Bats" was the other fighter squadron assigned to the Hammond.

"Vampire Lead, Helo. Leave the Hammond to us. Hotdog, commence nuclear strike on Baseship Six. Repeat. Nuclear strike is a go."

"Roger that." The aforementioned pilot and his preassigned escorts acknowledged. His viper was one of those designated to carry a strategic nuclear package. The chaos of combat had left him at the edge of the formation, closest to the capital scale battle royal.

"He's always rogering something." One of the other viper pilots quipped as the others laughed.

"Look sharp people! Next wave is inbound," warned a Heavy Raider, the pilot a model Two by the male voice.

* * *

She slowed down once more to tiptoes as she neared the final intersection. A quick peek told her a team of seven was guarding the entrance to this bay, including a model Six, but no Centurion. It made her self-appointed task more difficult. She did not want the blood of more people on her hands. Not if she could avoid it.

So she waited. And when the Six's back was turned, she made her move. One of the soldiers was able to cry out. _Too late._ From a flat out run, she launched herself, slamming both feet into the back of the Six and sending her flying. She grunted as her back landed on the floor but wasted no time rolling onto her hands and lashing out with a sweeping kick that dropped the two on her right to the floor. Then, regaining her balance, she launched herself once more, planting a foot each in two different soldiers, slamming both of them into the wall and knocking them out cold. She then spun, sidestepping another soldier who was charging in from her right. Grabbing the soldier's forearm in her left hand, she continued her spin, only for her right foot to find the chest of the last soldier. Then reversing her spin she slammed her right forearm into the soldier she had just sidestepped, suppressing a grimace as the clothesline maneuver sent both of the man's feet flying. The two she had first hit with a sweeping kick were getting back up. A right flying kick took care of one while a left hook took care of the other.

In the time it took Boomer to disable six soldiers the Six was able to regain herself. She charged back in to help. Or rather, tried. Boomer's pistol at her face stopped her short.

"I wouldn't think about it sister." Boomer smirked, eying the Six's short white dress with long flared sleeves. It seemed incongruous with the heavy black military vest, or the helmet that had flown off when the dropkick hit her, or the submachine gun Sixes were known to favor. The pale knee-high boots matched though.

"You should stand trial for your crimes," Lida grit out.

"Perhaps, sister. But not today. Today I have other things to accomplish." Boomer had stepped into the shuttle bay while talking. She reached over to the data stream interface to close the door and locked it with a password. It would not stop an angry Cylon for long, but a few minutes was all she needed. She grinned as she heard what seemed to be the Six screaming out in frustration. _Another time._

* * *

Doctor Jean Claude de Val smiled at his current patient as he did his workup. He had by now lost track of how many times he had done this today. Two years ago, he had just gotten back to Belgium from a Medecin sans Frontieres intervention in Africa when he received a most peculiar group of visitors. They had insisted on a non-disclosure agreement before they could describe what they wanted of him, and he had playfully noted that they could have just asked for a consultation and doctor-patient confidentiality would have taken care of his silence. Nevertheless, they insisted and he was piqued enough as to what an American Air Force general and a collection of civilian diplomats and scientists wanted from him that he signed.

What he learned would literally leave him speechless. All this time the major powers of the world had been waging interstellar wars against space invaders and alien warlords. He had been flabbergasted to learn that he was in the presence of the same people who had found the cure for the mystery plague of '05. Stunned to learn that that had been a case of biological warfare perpetrated by an alien power. He quickly realized what they wanted of him, a doctor whose single greatest claim to distinction was a penchant for volunteer work. Terrestrial conflicts no matter what scale always left victims. Interstellar wars could be no different. And so he accepted their offer of a job.

To join a sub-organization within their IOA, working with them to provide relief efforts to locations where alien threats had been removed and civilian populations needed assistance, coordinating with allied alien powers. It was, in some ways, much the same things he had done during his volunteer work, but on a much larger scale. Though having to work with one of the "aggressors" in the conflict rankled, he understood the other side would not take kindly to such efforts, and could at least be thankful the victims were not simply left to fend for themselves. Frankly he had been flattered that they had come to him. When he was not swamped by work, that is. The Ori War had left such large scale destruction that his fledgling organization had been continually stressed almost to the breaking point.

Now he was here. On a gargantuan warship that was falling apart at the seams. Tending to a civilian refugee population nestled in its belly(well, it was an outrigger pod, but he did not much care for such a minor detail). At least the _battlestar_ had topnotch water filtration and recycling systems. Small favors, considering the presence of clean water was usually the largest concern for any aid effort. Of greater concern in this particular case was the fact that the large number of refugees were spread out over several ships. While cooperative for the most part, shuttling to and fro was getting to be a chore. He was looking forward to just being beamed everywhere, which according to a recent briefing they were now cleared to use. _Just like Star Trek_.

His current patient was in good health considering the circumstances and he told him so. Nutritional supplements were already being mixed into the food they prepared, so all he had to do was eat up. As he was about to call for the next patient he became aware of a commotion just outside the enclosures built for the clinics. He peaked out the curtain, only to see another man holding the other refugees at gun point. Further investigation showed the SGC escorts being pinned down or beat up.

Outraged, he stepped out. "Stop that! What is the meaning of this?"

"Ah, Doctor, so good of you to join us." The gun wielder leered at him. "You are going to give us the coordinates to Earth."

"Coordinates?" He frowned. "What are you talking about? We're doctors not navigators. We don't know anything about any coordinates."

"Nevertheless, you are going to help us get it." He smirked as two of his companions stepped up to take hold of the doctor's arms. He wasn't the only one, he noticed as he felt his stomach sink. Wherever these hooligans were taking him, he was not going to be alone.

* * *

The battle was over. The Tau'ri warship was licking its wounds. While victorious, being bracketed by no less than four much larger and heavily armed ships at knife fight range had not left it unscathed. Four baseships had been destroyed before the Cylons wrote off the Hub and jumped the last two out. Now the Tau'ri consolidated their gains, checking their ship and the Hub for signs of damage and/or sabotage.

The fighters and small craft had suffered losses as well. Eammon "Gonzo" Pike had broken formation during the battle and paid the price. Eight Tau'ri pilots would never sortie again. Neither would almost half again that number of Colonial pilots. Even the Cylon Heavy Raiders had been unable to avoid casualties.

The Heavy Raider was hiding in the debris field that used to be Basestar Two, watching the victors. Its engines and jump drive were on standby as the pilot considered her options. Boomer fought the urge to hail the Hammond and identify herself. She had to see this through. She watched, amazed, as the diminutive Tau'ri warship enveloped the much larger Hub in some sort of blue energy field and started towing it. These people were indeed powerful.

It was not long after reality was seemingly torn and the successful allied task force disappeared into FTL that Boomer started moving. Easing the Heavy Raider out of the debris field she started inputting coordinates for the series of jumps that would take her back to the Colony. She had taken an incredible risk staying around during the battle but it had been well worth it. She now had what she needed to proceed with the plan.


	11. Chapter 10

It isn't mine because if it were, we'd see more of Kendra Shaw!

FirstBorn: You asked for Lee Adama, so here he is.

ljbrown1: They did, the Cylons just happened to use their superior tactical FTL jumping ability to box her in, not that it did much good in the end.

EvilTheLast: That particular plot thread gets resolved next chapter, hopefully. I'll try to get it up as soon as I can.

Agent-G: I'd already implied that the Baseship's shuttle bays had two types of shuttlecraft. Besides Cylons always have captured Raptors, Sharon Valerii always seems to be flying around in one. Both versions of her.

Unfortunately, doing any major overhauls of previous chapters this late in the game may only end up confusing readers, so I probably won't be doing any until everything's done.

Not much happening in this one, but the next two should have more action.

Keep all the comments and concerns coming, guys. All feedback is appreciated!

* * *

"What in the pit of Hades were they thinking?" The President's reaction regarding what the Sons of Ares had done was... predictable.

"Thinking wasn't really a huge part of it." Lee Adama deadpanned. The Quorum had convened within the hour of word getting out. Reactions were mixed, and he was waiting for the inevitable explosion. Many of them, in fact.

"You will all recall that I had strong reservations about letting these monads onto our ships." The Gemenon representative started off the fireworks. "And now they have provoked our citizens into taking action."

"Right, because sending doctors and giving out food and medicines is an act of provocation." Her colleague from Aquaria was dripping with sarcasm.

"Those doctors shouldn't have been there to begin with!" That could only have been the Sagittaron representative.

"You may not have needed the doctors, but everybody else did!" The Scorpia representative all but shouted. "The number of qualified doctors in the fleet can be counted on one hand! It was an offer we could ill afford to refuse!"

"And now that's blown up in our faces because some idiots would prefer coordinates to some mythical planet than medical assistance." The Canceron representative summed it up nicely.

"I say we just send them away. Maybe that will appease the Sons of Ares." Lee did not even bother to take note of who said that.

"That's just plain stupid!" The Aquaria representative mirrored Lee's thoughts exactly. "It's not even on the table. It won't get the doctors back, and I doubt they'll even _consider_ leaving without their doctors."

"Enough!" The President had finally had her fill of all the back-and-forth.

She turned to Lee and asked. "What will the Tau'ri do now? What will your father do?"

Lee Adama just shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know. Definitely the Admiral won't simply give in to terrorists. And I suspect the Tau'ri won't either."

"Which means, what exactly?" The Libran delegate pressed him for more details. "Will the Admiral send in the marines? Will the Tau'ri?"

"It's possible." Lee frowned. "Although we don't exactly have dedicated hostage rescue teams. And most of the Tau'ri's marines are on the joint operation with the Cylons."

"This isn't the first time we've had to deal with a hostage situation," the Scorpia delegate mused aloud.

"That may be so, but it's quite a different matter to seize a ship the size of the Astral Queen and quite another to root out something deep in the armored bowels of a battlestar." Tom Zarek finally spoke out.

"I'm more concerned with reports we've received that they went in the direction of the Galactica's lower levels," Lee mused. "That would imply collusion with at least one of the officers on board."

"The Admiral wouldn't like it, would he," President Roslin agreed.

"I pity the officer that gets caught collaborating with terrorists." Lee said.

"Let's not be hasty in throwing labels around." Tom Zarek spoke, his arms open in a placating gesture. "After all, one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter."

"They're not exactly fighting for any freedoms." The Scorpia delegate scoffed. "An excuse you at least had. These hooligans just wanted to extort some information from the Tau'ri. If the Tau'ri don't talk to them, I hope they teach them a lesson they'll never forget."

"Can we refuse the Tau'ri if they want to send their marines?" Another delegate asked.

"The only precedent we have is from before the Articles of Colonization, when each planetary government had its own navy. During that period the deck of a nation's ship was considered its own sovereign territory." The Libran delegate spoke in a lecturing tone. Not for nothing was her homeworld the planet of law.

"What are you saying?" Laura Roslin asked, her curiosity piqued.

"We can simply refuse the Tau'ri if they want to send their own soldiers, particularly if we believe it will result in harm to our citizens or property." The Libran delegate summarized.

"That may be so," Laura said thoughtfully. "However, it could also be seen as coddling a terrorist organization. Which we don't want. And that's also assuming we can stop them if they do."

"If they can find them." Tom Zarek pointed out.

"Don't they have some sort of magical teleportation technology?" One of the other delegates asked.

"It's obviously not perfect, otherwise we wouldn't be talking now." The Canceron representative replied.

"What if we do nothing?" Tom Zarek suggested, getting everybody's attention.

"We can just let the situation play itself out. Maybe the Tau'ri will give the coordinates to Earth. Maybe not. If they exercise the military option and end up looking bad, we do damage control. Either way, we come out on top."

"Except they're not even from Earth. Are they?" The Picon representative asked.

"They say their planet is called Tau'ri by their allies. That's not the same as saying the planet was not called Earth at one time. They consistently refer to themselves as the Tau'ri, but for all we know in some other dialect they have, Tau'ri might also refer to Earth. And obviously, each of our planets has been called different names at different times." The Libran delegate commented, having been trained in philosophy as part of her legal training.

"Where else could they be from? If not descended from the Thirteenth Tribe?" The Leonis delegate wondered aloud. "They do claim there are other human worlds in this region of the galaxy. But no single unified government. If all of these are descended from the Thirteenth Tribe..."

"Then where are they? Why is it the monads making contact with us? Where are those who have not strayed from the Lords?"

Lee could not help but sigh at the Gemenon delegate's line of reasoning. "It doesn't even matter. Are we seriously considering this? Just wash our hands and let the military handle this without even trying to control the situation?"

"Even if we do get the coordinates to the Tau'ri homeworld, whether or not it's Earth, do we really want to settle in a planet where the dominant culture is so different from ours?" The Aquaria delegate's question elicited much grumbling.

"And this is assuming there's just one monolithic culture on the planet." Laura Roslin threw in her cubit's worth.

"We may not have much choice." Lee Adama countered. "With just one battlestar our ability to safeguard our population is limited. We may have to risk it if only to keep our people safe." That elicited even more grumbling.

Further discussion was cut short as an aide rushed in to whisper something to Tory. More whispering ensued as Tory then relayed whatever it was to the President.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the time for talking is over. Colonel Davis is here, along with some members of the press. So without further ado, I yield the table to him."

* * *

"Where exactly are we headed?" Vala mal Doran asked the construct of Thor displayed on the Asgard Core. The Hammond had been in hyperspace for almost two full days. Usually a trip of such duration would have taken them well on the way to the opposite rim of the galaxy by now. Having to tow the Hub slowed it down considerably, even with the Asgard Core providing additional power.

"You know the planet as P3X-985. To the Asgard, it is known as Bifrost, and once served as an important waypoint for our ships travelling to and from the Ida galaxy."

"Bifrost was the bridge connecting Asgard to Midgard. What do you mean waypoint?" Carter asked, having just arrived.

"Our intergalactic ships would stop there while we proceeded to explore the galaxy in smaller interstellar ships. This was before we were able to combine the two technologies in a single platform."

"But Ida's all the way on the other side of the galaxy!" Vala exclaimed.

"It is today. Several thousands of years ago, it was much closer."

"Galactic drift." Carter supplied, her face dawning in understanding. "Why isn't any of this in the data base you left us?"

"We purged the knowledge from our data base in preparation for what we were going to do there."

"What exactly is it?" Vala pressed.

"The Yggdrasil project. You will understand when we get there."

"Have you analyzed the results of the sensor scans?" Carter asked again, trying a different tack.

"The Faster than Light drive is based on a design used primarily by the Furlings during the time of the Alliance." Neither woman felt the need to ask what alliance Thor was referring to. "The Ancients were known to experiment with it as well."

"The wormhole drive? That explains why Atlantis had it." Carter nodded.

"Indeed." Thor agreed before continuing. "The reactionless sublight drive is a more inefficient facsimile of the same design used by the Goa'uld."

"A 'cheap knockoff', huh." Vala commented as Carter nodded in agreement before asking. "What about the Resurrection system?"

There was a visible pause before Thor replied.

"I am not yet fully certain, and one of our science vessels will be standing by at Bifrost for a more detailed scan to confirm. But the consciousness transfer and mass cloning system seems reminiscent of comparable Asgard technologies."

Carter was literally dumbfounded.

"How?" She finally managed to choke out.

"That remains to be seen. If it was indeed based on our technology then it was taken... developed... in a direction that not even Loki would have conceived of."

"Will it solve your problem?" Carter finally asked after a long pause, concern etched on her face.

"Again that remains to be seen. Specialists will need to investigate."

"I see." Carter nodded pensively. "Anyway, Vala... we're wanted in the conference room. A situation has come up. We'll talk to you later, Thor."

"Let's go then," Vala acknowledged as the Asgard's image simply nodded.

* * *

D'Anna Biers stared out the observation deck's window at the swirling blues and greens. How peculiar this form of FTL was, just as peculiar as the people that introduced the Cylons to it. She thought it fitting that she was using the sight to meditate on the very same people who utilized it. The Tau'ri. So full of mystery.

She'd been intrigued when Boomer and Cavill had first mentioned them. And that had been on top of the surprising news of the rebels as Cavill called them collaborating with the Colonials. She'd been curious. So much so that as soon as it was clear Boomer had no intention of returning, she had pulled herself out of the tank and made her way to the console for an information dump. Without taking the time to even put on a robe.

Of course, that was when the combined Tau'ri-Colonial-Rebel boarding party decided to arrive. The embarrassed looks on the males' faces would have been amusing if they had not been caused by her not having a stitch of clothing on. As it was, the embarrassed males led by Colonel Mitchell had promptly turned around, while the dark haired female called Vala had just grinned saucily.

"I thought I'd find you here."

D'Anna turned, fighting the urge to scowl. She had deliberately hidden herself away in the most remote observation deck on the Hub, trying to gather her thoughts and decide what to do next. She had not really been in any mood to mingle with anybody, and everybody had so far seen and understood. Except him.

Everyone had been surprised to find them, sequestered in an out of the way section of the Hub. They had been found as the victorious coalition swept through the captured vessel for booby traps and stragglers. A single One with a handful of Fours and Fives, all apparently awakened by the ship wide instruction to resurrect.

To say everyone, on all sides, had been surprised and more than a little confused was an understatement.

"Amazing isn't it." The One continued gesturing out the observation deck's window at what the Tau'ri called "hyperspace", pointedly ignoring D'Anna's obvious distaste. "To think that there were other forms of Faster Than Light travel. Though I'm not entirely convinced it's all that much better than ours."

"What do you want?" D'Anna almost growled.

"Now, now, no need to be hostile," the One chided her. "We are, after all, in the same boat. Boxed against our will. At least you had warning. I just went to sleep one day and all of a sudden woke up in that tank. Completely and utterly shocked to find us at the mercy of an alien power."

"Oh the Colonials and our own brothers and sisters may have been in on it, but make no mistake! The Tau'ri are in charge." He finished smugly.

"So what now, oh omniscient one? Got some scheme to remedy that?" D'Anna asked acidly.

"Actually, I thought I'd ask what you had in mind," the One replied, braving on despite D'Anna's increasing hostility.

"After all, it's you they came here for," he continued. "The ball is in your court."

D'Anna arched an eyebrow at the One's bland expression, and then realization dawned. "You know everything. Don't you?"

"Know what?" The One asked, feigning innocence.

"No more games." D'Anna replied determinedly, and the One sighed.

"Yes. I know everything the Ones know. We know who the Final Five are. We know what happened to them and how they came to be where they are. We know where Earth is and we know the Colonials are on the right track. Satisfied?"

"So what now?" D'Anna asked, trying to fight her shock at how easily the One had admitted to knowing something. A lot of things.

"That's up to you." The One answered. "Little of what I know is immediately relevant. In fact, I'm not sure I should share everything yet. At least not all at once. Ultimately whatever I say is tainted by the schemes my brothers have been playing since, well since the start. Since everything is, as I mentioned, on the right track anyway, I figure I'll just hold my peace. What is truly important now is what you will do with what you know. The spotlight is upon you."

* * *

Captain Ron Hunter stopped at the threshold of the Officer's Mess aboard the Proteus and gave the room a quick once over before proceeding to get his food. He was off duty for a few hours and would be due back on the bridge in about a half hour when they reached this Kobol. In the meantime he had decided that a sandwich was in order.

His impromptu survey yielded up a couple of possibilities for conversation. Doctor Gardner was off by the panoramic window dividing her attention between her tablet, her food and Commander Mitchell's efforts to chat her up. More on the first two, less on the last one. A lot less.

Off by the side Lieutenant Colonel Bond who lead the SGC advisory team and Commander Hawk of the contact team had obviously noticed and were sniggering like a pair of school boys. His mind made up, he made his way over.

Lieutenant Colonel Bond had not been particularly well received by most of the ship's crew. Most of them were blue water sailors who resented the fact that jarheads knew more about their ship than they did. This was compounded by the fact that _all_ of the ship's officers were of full Lieutenant rank or higher. The Navy had felt that it needed as many command rank and mid-level officers to be exposed to space operations. An area that the Chair Force had, unfairly in their eyes, hogged for all these years. The unfortunate side effect of what the Navy considered a golden opportunity to close the gap was that Lieutenants and Lieutenant Commanders were doing tasks that on a blue water ship would be relegated to junior officers. Commander Hawk and his team were the exceptions, the SEAL having known the marine when both of them were junior officers at the Stargate Command.

"Care to share what's funny?" Captain Hunter chuckled as the two officers stiffened reflexively. "At ease, gentlemen."

"Aye, sir. It's Maverick... just can't seem to get a hint." Commander Hawk replied.

"He doesn't really know what he's in for, sir," the marine added.

"Something I should know about the good doctor?" There was something in the way the two officers spoke of her.

The two shared a look. "You mean, you didn't know sir?" The marine asked.

"It should be on her dossier. Commander Mitchell wouldn't have been cleared for some of the details you got, sir," the marine added.

"You'll have to pardon my ignorance, gentlemen. With getting this ship ready to sail, not to mention riding herd on the likes of Maverick, Iceman and that bunch of misfits they call a fighter wing, I didn't really have time to read more than a couple of pages off of Doctor Gardner's dossier. I just trusted Homeworld Command when they said she was qualified."

The two men nodded and Commander Hawk leaned forward before speaking in an almost whisper. "The good doctor spent almost four years as a Goa'uld host. Went traipsing around the galaxy causing all sorts of trouble for us for a while, sir."

"Osiris was one of those rare kinds of Goa'uld who didn't mind getting his hands dirty, leading from the front commanding warships, armies, that kind of stuff, sir." The marine added. "And there's something between her and Doctor Jackson. Off and on. Stayed with him a while after we got the Goa'uld out of her, keeps drifting back into Colorado Springs then and again."

"That explains General O'neill's instructions to give serious weight to whatever advice she gives," Captain Hunter grunted. "Anything else? She is completely safe isn't she? No chance of a relapse?"

"Nah," the marine officer smiled. "You don't have to worry about that, sir. Anubis mostly had her working as a spy and general fixer. And according to scuttlebutt he also apparently had her working on hybridizing the Goa'uld and Asgard technology bases."

The Captain simply nodded. That was a pretty apt description of the type of technologies the Proteus was built on. Silence reigned among the three senior officers until the _PA_ sounded.

_Captain Hunter and Doctor Gardner to the bridge._

"Well gentlemen, that's our cue." Captain Hunter finished his sandwich as he stood up.

He arrived at the bridge just as the Proteus was approaching the planet. "Report!"

"All systems secured from Hyperspace travel. Sensors report all clear, no threats detected, and we're just about to establish a stable orbit," the duty officer replied as he yielded the Captain's Chair.

Hunter nodded at Doctor Gardner, "well Doctor, this is your show."

"Thank you," the archaeologist replied as she hefted her tablet and made for the sensor station. "Initiate sensor scans, the parameters have already been uploaded." The sensor officer nodded in acknowledgement as he followed the instructions.

"Captain, request permission to establish a CAP." Commander Mitchell spoke up.

"Do you believe it's necessary?" Captain Hunter asked. Combat Air Patrols were extremely useful in extending a carrier's threat detection range at sea, allowing its commanders to see and respond beyond the horizon. On a ship that he was told already had the best sensors in the galaxy, that usefulness was dubious at best.

"My pilots need the hours more than anything else." The Commander answered truthfully and Hunter could not fault his logic. Again it was the Chair Force's fault that their own and marine pilots had long been flying the 302's but Navy pilots were only now learning to fly them.

"Very well then, get with Iceman and set a rotation." At this, Commander Mitchell saluted and backed out of the bridge.

"Now, exactly what are we looking for, Doctor?" The Captain asked as he watched the archaeologist fiddle with her tablet.

"At the moment, just the usual planetary characteristics." Doctor Gardner answered. "Things like mass, rotation, gravity, axial tilt, amount of water, atmospheric composition, natural resources and so on and so forth. As we progress, we then move on to signs of habitation and technological development."

"I see," and Captain Hunter really did. She had everything in hand, there was little for him to do here, and the conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Bond and Commander Hawk had both impressed upon him the fact that there was still an awful lot of things he had to catch up on. "I will be in my ready room if you need me. Commander, you have the conn."

* * *

Colonel Davis removed his service cap as he cleared his breath, putting it down at the lectern. He had put on his dress blues for this occasion, in an attempt to somehow add weight to the message he was about to deliver. Just when he was getting used to the far more comfortable and utilitarian coveralls that were the uniform of the day aboard the 304's, too. It was an unfortunate truth, but he had been at the Pentagon long enough to know the impact a messenger's appearance made on the message itself. And that was what he was here for now, to be a simple messenger. Though on second thought his marine escort, loaded for bear, was probably sending a good message as well.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Quorum, President Roslin, and members of the Press. I thank you for receiving me on such short notice. I regret that I am not here to answer any questions you may have, though I have prepared a brief statement."

"Just over a standard Colonial hour ago, a group of armed men identifying themselves as 'The Sons of Ares' entered the section of the Galactica's starboard flight pod that was provided to us for our medical mission. They then proceeded to overpower the minimal marine escort and abduct our doctors and nurses at gunpoint. It was a cowardly attack aimed at those who did not have the means to protect themselves, and whose only purpose for being at that location was the welfare of the Colonial people."

He looked up and gazed around the assembled Quorum and Press, watching their reactions carefully before continuing. "As a consequence of this attack, the medical mission is hereby terminated, and we will review the feasibility of continuing it at a later time."

There was no need to point out the unlikeliness of his supporting it, as the task force commander, though ultimately it was not his choice.

"The feeding program will continue, but will now be relocated to our assigned area at the port side flight pod, to be administered by our marines."

There was also no need to point out that the marines were not likely to be in a generous mood after this.

"To our missing doctors and nurses, do not lose hope. We will not leave you behind, we will find you and bring you home."

At this he paused, gazing once more at his spellbound audience before continuing in a harder tone. "To The Sons of Ares, we will warn you only once. You have forty-eight hours to return our people safely and unharmed. You have hidden yourselves away like rats deep in the lower levels of the Galactica, but rats have to come out eventually. Return our people, and it will be as if nothing happened. Ignore our warning, and you will face the full wrath of the Tau'ri."

"Thank you all."


	12. Chapter 11

Stargate:SG1 and Battlestar Galactica aren't mine because if they were more people than just Sam Anders' piddly little crew would have been rescued.

Thanks for all the awesome support. Sorry this update took so long. I had struggled for a while how to present it, and here I am now with a 4.9K word monstrosity. It's not long compared to other fics, but it's the longest I've ever written. Cheers!

* * *

Saul Tigh surreptitiously looked around him before turning around the hallway corner. Reaching for the hatch at the end, he took one last look around before opening it and slipping inside, quietly closing it behind him.

"Any news?"

The other members of this unholy cabal were already waiting for him. As one, they shook their heads, eliciting a curse from the balding Colonial fleet officer.

"Somebody's covering for them, I just know it." Galen Tyrol frowned. "Duty rotations have been juggled around. I just don't have the authority to question any of the officers down there who might be involved. And there's literally kilometers of corridors and bulkheads down there."

Saul sighed, not for the first time getting the urge to curse the Sons of Ares to eternal limbo and back. As if their antics were not bad enough, they also had to deal with the Threes now.

The joint operation had been a success beyond their wildest estimates. Celebration had greeted the communique from the Hammond, followed shortly by waves of Heavy Raiders and Raptors bringing the men and women who had participated home.

That celebration was short lived, however. As soon as the Three known as D'Anna Biers arrived, she had broadcast her demand for the fleet to turn over the remaining members of the Final Five. To punctuate her ultimatum, one of the Basestars had performed a tactical jump to the other side of the fleet, giving them maximum coverage.

The Cylons were rattling their sabers, and thanks to the Sons of Ares, the Tau'ri silence was deafening.

* * *

Captain Kara Thrace circled the old school viper, carefully assessing its gleaming white and red trimmed paint job. It was the same viper she had flown back from Earth to rejoin the fleet. She now knew it was not the same viper she had left in.

By Tyrol's estimates it was entirely brand new. It had none of the wear and tear typically associated with a forty year old craft. No microfractures or warping in the structural frame. No signs of the residue that typically accumulates in tylium energizers. It was as if it had been built specifically for the purpose of bringing her back.

She had never really thought about it much before. Who would do such a thing and why?

No, that was not entirely accurate. She had always known why. It, just like her disappearance, was another arrow pointing the way to Earth. Now she could feel it, calling out to her. The feeling was not dissimilar to the time aboard the Demetrius, when her gut had had her zig-zagging across sectors until she came upon the Tau'ri. Now it was calling, no, demanding, for her to be here. Daring her to interpret the next signpost on the road to Earth.

_Lords of Kobol help us... Artemis..._

The Tribes of Kobol were now at a crossroads. Down one path was their new home, be it Earth or otherwise. Down the other was their death at the hands of the newly belligerent Cylons and the uncaring Tau'ri.

She could not even bring herself to blame either one. The Cylons wanted the Final Five back among them. How the Final Five came to be among the Colonials was a puzzle, but she no longer had the strength to begrudge them that desire. The fleet would probably be better off without the skinjobs anyway.

As for the Tau'ri...

She supposed it could be hard to care for someone that had lashed out at you after you had given them nothing but good will. To be frank she was just plain tired of it all.

And now that was another problem, of course. The Tau'ri had issued their ultimatum, and the clock was ticking. What form would their action take when that clock ran out?

Trying to get such dark thoughts out of her mind, she climbed into the old style viper's canopy and on an idle whim, started toggling switches and pressing buttons. A general systems diagnostic seemed just the thing to clear her mind.

Unfortunately it did not work for long and her thoughts inevitably went back to their previous direction.

As if the two ultimatums were not bad enough that infernal beeping seemed to be counting off the deadline second by painstaking second. Wait... what beeping?

* * *

Natalie Faust fingered the raised scar that ran down the center of her chest. The Tau'ri surgeons had not left any stitches on the outside of the skin, but if she pressed deeply enough she could feel the outlines of stitches on the inner layers.

By all accounts, it had been a very close call. Too close. Athena's first shot had shattered her breastbone, peppering her heart with bone fragments before lodging the bullet itself next to her spine. The second one had gone unimpeded through what remained of the heart before ricocheting off of the rear wall of her ribcage, going right through a lung before embedding itself at the front. Cardiac failure had been instantaneous, and she had almost literally drowned in her own blood as her lung collapsed.

With the little she knew of medicine, she did not think ten minutes would have been long enough to save her life, even with her hardier Cylon constitution. The Tau'ri must have acted extremely quickly for her to be lying here now. As it was, she remembered periodically regaining consciousness as her enhanced metabolism kept burning through the sedatives, and she distinctly recalled being strapped down to machines that pumped blood and oxygen through her.

She suspected the sedatives were supposed to be keeping her under even now. But as she had awoken ahead of schedule, the Tau'ri doctors had been forced to conclude that she was well on the road to recovery.

In the old days, she would have just discarded the body and resurrected in a new one, but that option was no longer available. Now here she was. The first Cylon recipient of a major organ transplant. Two major organ transplants, as both her heart and lung had been replaced. Likely the sternum as well.

They had been harvested off of a Three that would no longer be needing them. She felt a stab of grief as she remembered what she had been told about their fate. The Ones would pay. Pay dearly.

Now D'Anna was on a warpath and the sooner she was on her feet the greater her chances of salvaging the fledgling peace. She was convinced now more than ever that any hope for the future lay with continued coexistence with the Colonials and the Tau'ri.

* * *

Colonel Samantha Carter materialized directly in front of the Mark II Viper. The Tau'ri were understandably cautious since the abduction of their doctors, and so the battleship commander and her entourage were wearing tactical vests over the green jumpsuit that was uniform of the day aboard their own ship. A sidearm was strapped to her hip, as was another to Major Hailey's. Around them, a team of marines was loaded for bear, wearing combat helmets and wielding assault rifles.

President Laura Roslin was already there, and she had apparently taken the time to pick Doctor Baltar up along the way. The Colonial Fleet's premier scientific mind seemed preoccupied as usual.

D'Anna Biers was also there, along with a contingent of Cylons, one from each model currently represented aboard their ships. Including the single One.

She greeted those already assembled with a nod and a smile before casting her gaze at the old style warbird before her. As she did so, a whistling sound heralded the arrival of Colonels Gant and Davis from the Odyssey. Their jumpsuits were blue, but like Colonel Carter they had tactical vests and sidearms with them. Along with armed to the teeth marines.

"Colonels, you have my thanks for coming on such short notice." Starbuck began once the greetings were completed. And it was short notice. Colonel Carter and her ship had not rejoined the fleet for more than an hour and already here she was.

"It was nothing at all, with the deadline we've set for the Sons of Ares fast approaching, we've all been on high alert, anyway." Colonel Davis replied as the others nodded in agreement.

Starbuck's face fell. "I was hoping that with what I have to show you, you'd be open to extending the deadline."

"Why don't you show us why you've called us here." Colonel Gant stated dispassionately, her expression neutral.

Starbuck nodded, carefully noting that no promises were made. Turning back to the viper, she went down to business. "If you'll listen closely, you will hear the faint beeping."

The Tau'ri nodded.

"It began when I powered up the viper for a general system diagnostic, and I've checked out what it is. It is a notification that the viper is detecting an emergency locator beacon. The same type issued to pilots of the first war in case they were shot down."

"And this viper is the only one detecting it?" The president asked, her face incredulous.

Starbuck nodded. "The frequency was changed some time after the first war. At a guess, whoever built this viper also configured it to detect the beacon once we were close enough."

"How close?" Colonel Davis asked.

"Within around 10,000 SU or about a sixth of a lightyear," a new voice answered as Lee Adama approached the gathering from one of the corridors.

"Hey!" Starbuck moved to give the officer turned politician a brotherly hug as he arrived. "How's the old man?"

"Put him to bed. I doubt he'd stay there, but he needs the rest more than anything. How are you holding up?"

"I'll survive." Starbuck replied, now showing visible signs of exhaustion. "There are more important things right now."

The gathered Tau'ri listened to the exchange without comment, politely giving the two some privacy. Colonel Tigh, the ship's Executive Officer had just turned himself in as a _skinjob_. They could only imagine how the Admiral would have reacted to his closest friend of the past three decades turning out to be something anathema to the Colonial mindset.

And he wasn't the only one. Galen Tyrol, the seniormost petty officer of the fleet had also turned himself in, further dealing a blow to Colonial morale.

Tory Foster was another one. The President's chief aide, she had happened to be on the Odyssey, ostensibly delivering some paperwork when the news broke out. Rather than return to the Galactica to be with the others, she had turned herself in to the Cylons and had promptly been shuttled away to one of the Baseships.

Together, all three were considered critical pillars of the fleet's leadership structure.

In theory, Starbuck should have been in the same boat. Her husband had turned out to be the fourth and last of the still living Final Five, but she had held it together. Somehow she had found the reserves to keep going.

Colonel Davis cleared his throat when he felt that the two Colonials had had sufficient time. "Are you able to pinpoint where the signal is coming from?"

"Typically we'd have several ships triangulating the signal." Lee replied. "It shouldn't be a problem for Starbuck to contact CIC and have the OD and communications officer make the adjustments."

"Allow us." Colonel Carter smoothly offered as she gestured Major Hailey. The younger officer already had her hand pressed to her earpiece, conferring with their ship. "What frequency?"

Starbuck gave the frequency and watched expectantly as Major Hailey spoke to her earpiece. After some minutes she looked at her commanding officer and just shook her head.

"There's a planet there, same size and mass as what we're used to. But that's about it." She explained. "Ambient radiation is jamming our scans. We can't see anything at low orbit or below."

"Looks like you may have to send a recon flight and eyeball it." Colonel Carter suggested.

"Who can authorize one?" President Roslin asked.

"Captain Agathon should be OD at the CIC. Kara could do it too, since the pilots will be under her direct supervision." Lee replied.

"I'll get to it then." Kara said grimly as she walked to a handset hanging on a wall.

"If this pans out, I'm willing to call the fireworks off," D'Anna stated.

_They will find something, Gaius. _Just like that, she captured his attention. She was in that turquoise halter dress, her arms around him as she pressed her full breasts against his back and whispered in his ear.

Shaking his head, he focused just in time to hear Colonel Carter speak.

"Well, there's the message, let's see if we can figure out who sent it." She spoke as she raised her hand to her earpiece.

"Hammond, this is Colonel Carter. Target the viper two meters in front of me and prepare to initiate a full spectrum scan. Link up to the Asgard Core for maximum resolution, and begin when ready. Upload the findings to Major Hailey's PDA."

Colonel Carter kept her hand on her earpiece as she listened to her ship's response. Meanwhile, Major Hailey pulled up her left sleeve to display the PDA strapped there. Tapping on the screen a few times, she waited while it downloaded the app that would display the scan's results from the Hammond.

"Everybody step back!" Carter called out as the scan was about to begin.

_Now we find the true face of God. _Again her voice captured his attention, making him shiver as her hands wandered. At her urging he sidled over to Major Hailey's side. The younger officer let him look at the display over her shoulder, figuring that the refugee fleet's resident genius would see the results eventually anyway.

Gaius Baltar scrutinized the small touch screen strapped to the Tau'ri officer's left forearm. He had been spending time lately, trying to learn their alphabet. It was extremely similar to Colonial standard as to be all but identical, hinting at either a shared ancestry or parallel evolution. There were some differences, but it was still uncanny.

A smile twitched his lips as he realized that the display's results were labeled in both Tau'ri and Colonial standard. That would make it much easer. As he watched the results stream, though, his blood began to run cold.

"This can't be right!" He erupted, no longer able to contain himself.

"I assure you it is." Major Hailey replied succinctly.

Gaius looked up at the Colonials and the Cylons. Both groups were looking at him expectantly while the Tau'ri just looked grim. He swallowed before speaking.

"Alloy homogeneity, crystal lattice alignment... All in the upper ninety percent! But in order to get results like these you would have to build the viper from the ground up, molecule by molecule. And that's just... impossible..."

He trailed off as he realized that it was not impossible to the Tau'ri. They had to be able to, if they were able to detect such precision. Furthermore, it was a virtual requirement for their point to point matter transmission technology.

"Did you.." He struggled to complete the question. Looking at the face of God, indeed.

"No, we did not. We barely even understand the technology as it is right now, despite our frequent use. But there are other far older races who wouldn't think twice at assembling something like this in the manner you, and we, suspect." Colonel Carter explained.

"You've met them." The President said. It was not a question.

"Some of them are still around." Colonel Carter sighed. "Most of them stay away from the affairs of those they consider primitive. That includes us. Some of them aren't native to this galaxy."

President Roslin nodded. "Get that recon flight arranged, Captain Thrace. I don't want to risk jumping the fleet in without knowing what's there."

* * *

The man sat on his chair, his throne. Surrounded by his brothers, his fellow believers, here in their sanctum, life could not be better. Soon Earth would be found, and with the role he and his brothers had played in obtaining its location, the Gods would be in ascendance once more.

But first they had to find it. The monad Tau'ri abominations were being reticent. The doctors did not know how to get there, and that was to be expected. But the military had tried to talk tough. As if they were any match for the faithful of the God of War.

Once they had found Earth, the mere presence of the battlestar was sure to cow those monads. Those pathetic little ships the Tau'ri used would stand no chance against the Galactica. And if the Admiral did not deal with them as he should... well then, he would be dealt with as well.

He heard the hatch open and he looked up, still smiling at his thoughts , only to start as two small objects came flying into the middle of his gathered brothers. _Grenades!_

It was all he could think before a bright flash and a loud bang consumed his senses.

He felt as if he was swimming in Phlegethon. He was still trying to blink the white spots from his eyes, and his ears were still ringing. He had thrown himself from his chair to avoid the explosions, and with his sense of balance so disrupted even crawling for cover behind the chair had been an agony.

The Tau'ri, it could only be they, did not even bother with any warnings. Just walked in, shooting at anything that moved. A near miss had clipped him on his right shoulder, and _it burned!_ It was now twitching helplessly at his side while he gripped the pistol he always carried in his off hand.

"Put your weapon down!"

Not willing to give up without a fight he raised his gun and fired at where the voice was coming from, only to hear the distinctive sound of bullets hitting reinforced plastic. _Riot shields. _He thought with dismay as he felt more bullets hitting him.

* * *

It was early in its infancy when the Lucian Alliance realized how much of a problem the Tau'ri would be. Back then, the Tau'ri had just one planet and one ship. Earth was a bit more populous and industrialized than most, but it was just one planet, and the less said about the Prometheus, the better.

Back then the Lucian Alliance already had in operation a modest fleet of Ha'taks, with more in mothballs awaiting trained crews. They would never have been able to match the Free Jaffa, but Earth's piddly little fleet would never have stood a chance. As long as they stayed out of the Antarctica super weapon's sights, that is.

But in the short time since then, Earth's forces had grown. Evolved. Each conflict they fought only ended with them being even more powerful than before. Their ships while barely half the size of a Ha'tak were by and large easily superior to the Goa'uld mainstay. And there were rumors of secret offworld bases that they were building and expanding. Along with an ever expanding network of allies and contacts.

Research and Development was the key. The Tau'ri effort in this respect far exceeded that of the Jaffa, or the Lucian Alliance, and was only distantly followed by the Tok'ra. And they did not rest on their laurels. Efforts continued despite already having a commanding lead in the space arms race.

To even have a hope in the eventual conflict that would no doubt ensue, the Lucian Alliance would have to invest as well.

Ironically the tools to lessen the gap were to be found on Earth itself. The socio-political upheavals of the past few decades had created a pool of trained scientists, engineers and military professionals all willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder.

The investment had paid off almost immediately. It was in fact, mercenary scientists recruited from Earth who had suggested adding more power cores to the Ha'tak in order to be able to feed more power to shields and weapons. It was not as if the Ha'taks did not have the space for it. Its old owners had been using them to transport armies. Armies the Lucian Alliance did not have. Not in any significant numbers anyway.

Now, pilots and engineers were heavily involved in upgrading other Lucian Alliance craft so as to present more of a challenge to the Tau'ri. For one thing, despite having superior propulsion and weapon technologies, the Deathglider's performance simply lagged behind that of its Tau'ri counterpart. Much of it was Tau'ri training and skill. Something that the Lucian Alliance would not be able to match in the short term, but some of the Deathglider's systems were also downright primitive, and it was hoped that enhancing these with the typical luxuries Tau'ri pilots enjoyed would allow them to close the kill ratios somewhat.

Yuri was a part of that. Ironically, Yuri learned his trade in the United States Armed Forces. The very same one that played a lead role in Tau'ri interstellar dealings. Specifically, he had been a pilot for the US Navy.

Long before that however, he had been a Ukrainian boy smuggled into the United States to grow up there and eventually infiltrate the military-political complex. He had almost been discovered once when a philandering senator tried to frame him for murder. His name was eventually cleared, but his until then rapid rise through the ranks was over.

And then the bottom really fell out. The Soviet Union dissolved, and the once monolithic KGB disintegrated as its rank and file declared themselves for this or that former SSR. The deep cover operation that included him was one of many to fall through the cracks as his handlers went rogue, some going back to their own homelands, some remaining in their comfortable american lives.

He had eventually managed to go home, only to find that home had no place for him. He had been gone too long, too americanized. He had been in Africa, training a local warlord's pilots when the Lucian Alliance found him, by then eschewing any other name save for the one american intelligence conspiracy theorists had given him.

He was in the Operations Center when he noticed one of the technicians scratch his head. Stepping closer, he smiled. "What's going on?"

"For a moment, I thought there was a glitch." The sensor technician frowned. Sensor information was collated at the Operations Center. While the station had a designated command center, it was really little more than a captain's chair with helm and weapons stations. It had access to sensor data, but the Command Center itself could not hold enough people during combat operations to process all the information effectively.

"Take it easy," he soothed the irritated tech. "Run through what you were doing earlier, step by step."

As the tech retraced what he had been doing, he focused on the display.

"There," he pointed at the display, where something had blinked for a split second. "Switch from wideband to narrowband and sweep this area."

As the tech complied, he considered what it might be. The fact that the sensors had trouble locking onto it implied some sort of stealth or Low Observability technology. It was not quite a cloak though, which would have been completely undetectable. Something in between, which only the Tau'ri employed extensively.

"It's some sort of small craft. Unidentified. Mass shadow of fifty tons." The tech called out once he had run it through the sensor recognition software.

"Contact Flight operations for a recon flyby." He instructed the tech, and then thought again.

"Belay that, have them prep two of the prototypes instead. I'll go check it out myself." He ordered before running off towards the Deathglider hangar.

The "prototypes" were testbeds for planned upgrades to the Lucian Alliance's Deathgliders. At first glance they were very similar to the standard glider that had been Goa'uld instruments of terror for millenia. Until one saw the trio of missiles affixed to pylons jury-rigged onto the staff cannons. A closer inspection would show that were cannons themselves were different. Rather than oriented in the traditional parallel configuration, they were canted upwards, or inwards once the wings were in flight configuration. Blasts from these cannons would pass very close to each other at a pre-defined point two hundred and fifty meters from the front of the glider. The stubby nose had also been elongated to accommodate the additional sensor and guidance systems.

As Yuri strapped himself in, he gave a cursory examination to the changes they had made to the cockpit itself. Both pilot stations now boasted holographic Heads Up Displays. Consoles had also been added, for fire control. All indicators were green and he gave the tech a thumbs up to signal he was ready. The tech stepped back to let the cockpit cradle be raised up into the actual Deathglider and the Deathglider itself moved onto a launch rail as its wings were raised into position.

As the Deathglider was accelerated out of the launch bay, Yuri marveled once more at how effective the inertial dampeners were. An old Earth fighter accelerating at this rate, if one could, would kill its pilot with G forces, yet he could barely feel a thing. The US Air Force had been able to reverse engineer it, and had apparently shared it with their allies. He shrugged the thought off. He did not particularly care if the Lucian Alliance won or lost. As long as they kept paying the solid gold bullion they promised him. If he made some money off of their death throes, so much the better.

Asking for a quick status, the Operations Center gave him a heading and when his wingman acknowledged he banked sharply. Steering the Deathglider into a flatspin, he gunned the acceleration as he headed out to investigate.

The station's sensors had already tagged the bogey as unidentified. Meaning the sensor profile did not match known spacecraft used by other factions like the Tau'ri or Hebridans. It could still be a known one heavily modified, or an entirely new contact. Hence, a recon flyby to investigate and interrogate.

"Control, I have eyes on the target," he called out on the horn as he peered at the magnified image on his scopes. "Target resembles the front end of an Apache, bulked up a bit, with what looks like a Hornet's tailfins sticking out the back. Proceeding with flyby and challenge."

As he approached the craft, it started maneuvering wildly, moving away. "Control, target has initiated evasive maneuvers and is not responding to hails. Arming missiles for a warning shot." It was well beyond the two to three hundred meters that was considered optimal engagement range for his plasma cannons and at fifty tones the armor seemed heavy enough to take one missile. He hoped so anyway.

"Firing Fox Three!" He called out once he heard the ringing tone of a missile lock, only to gape in surprise as the target disappeared in a flash of light. Leaving the missile to trail smoke through empty space.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey..."

He thrashed as he felt water on his face. He opened his eyes, looking around wildly. He was strung up by his hands, hanging from the ceiling. As were all his other brothers. None seemed to be seriously injured and some were beginning to stir. Their attackers were dressed in civilian clothing mixed with military gear. Weapons and harnesses. Masks hid their features.

"You! Who do you think you are?"

He saw stars as a hand hit his jaw.

"You're not the one asking questions here." The man before him sneered.

"How dare you! You'll never get anything from me! You'll never get them back!"

"What makes you think we want anything from you?" The man's mocking smile was evident even with the mask on. It was the face of one who held all the cards.

"You'll never get away with this, Tau'ri! I know who you are! This is against the law! Against all the laws of war!"

His words were met with laughter. Every single one of them was laughing.

"I read those laws you know," the masked man said condescendingly. "We are not at war with each other. You are not lawful soldiers of the Colonies, you're just... criminals. Thugs."

"You can't prove that we are Tau'ri..." He continued. "And we were never here."

At this one of the others stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder, before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Well then." The man's eyes crinkled with sarcasm as he spoke. "We've already taken too much of your time. We'll show ourselves out... Oh and we'll be taking your guns, along with everything else you've stashed. Have a nice day."


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended for any profit. None of it's mine. If any of it were, we'd see more colonial craft!

Robo Reader 21: More on that in this chapter!

Agent G: I don't really feel up to rehashing scenes that have already been covered on TV. I'd much rather show how it affected others.

You have a very low opinion of an Asgard sensor array if you don't think they can scan a sixth of a lightyear away. If any, I'm actually nerfing it. Carter has used a 304's sensor array to search for a missing City Ship from the edge of the Pegasus galaxy. And we've already established earlier in this fic that it can detect both origination and termination points of an FTL jump.

Unfortunately, the amount of interaction they have is pretty much going to be it. SGC is keeping everyone at arm's length to minimize potential violence. Violence that has already occurred more than once. Everyone is on a short fuse due to PTSD, and the SGC would rather not rock the boat more than absolutely necessary. So beyond official liaisons and high level discussions, none of these parties are going to be fast friends any time soon.

Shadow Cub: We'll just have to see how Disclosure plays out. I'm planning on another scene where the Asgard show up, but don't get your hopes up. They don't really have much to contribute at this point.

Now, on with story!

* * *

Bright light filled the forward viewport as they arrived at their destination. Major Jennifer Hailey gasped, sucking in lungfuls of air to ward away the nausea. It was already her third jump, but the feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube while being inflated like a balloon was as uncomfortable as ever. Behind her, Lieutenant Andy "Riker" Spencer was similarly indisposed, leaning back against his seat trying to keep his air passages opened as wide as possible. The other two people in the craft, the ECO and the Six that had attached herself to Riker both seemed to be fine.

"Jump complete." Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson simply gave her pitying look. The condition was apparently not uncommon among the Colonials. Though understandably absent among the pilot corps.

Inwardly, she marveled at how little fanfare was involved in a jump. Racetrack had simply confirmed the coordinates and then punched it. Not a lot of ritual once it was done, either. It was a testament to how long they had been doing this and how much they trusted the technology.

"Is this it?" She asked.

"Yep." The colonial pilot nodded. "DRADIS is detecting the planet half an SU dead ahead."

She frowned. "A lot of radiation at this range, visual and other sensors are OK."

"How do we do this?" Major Hailey asked, not sure what the colonial protocol was.

"We approach slowly, give the DRADIS array some time to cut through the background radiation. By the time we hit the upper atmosphere we should have enough to determine atmospheric composition."

"Lets us see threats coming from far off." Hailey muttered. "Riker, what do you see?"

"Long range telescopes are getting a good resolution." The younger officer replied as he planted himself near the ECO station. "Looks like a whole lot of cities."

"Is it inhabited?" Hailey asked. The SGC had come across seemingly advanced planets that were bereft of life before.

"I don't think so, Major." Lieutenant Hamish "Skulls" McCall piped up. "Background radiation is too high. Not immediately lethal, but definitely too high for long term habitation."

"Not too high for Cylons." The Six added. "But it'll kill anybody else inside of a month without meds."

"You mean those rad-meds?" Riker clarified, using the more common name for anti-radiation medicines. The Colonials and the Cylon just nodded.

"I guess we sit back and enjoy the ride, Major." Racetrack smiled. "This looks like it's gonna be a long trip."

"I hope it's a quiet one," Hailey grinned as she leaned back.

That was unfortunately, not to be.

"What was that?" They were not more than a few minutes in when Riker called out, surprising the dark-skinned ECO.

"What?" Skulls just looked at him with a blank expression.

"Back a few frames." Riker motioned at the feed coming from the long range cameras.

Skulls complied as Lida moved closer, now visibly curious. It was a few more moments before Riker found what he was looking for.

"That's different." Lida commented as Skulls grunted in agreement.

"Major, we have a problem." The young Tau'ri officer advised his superior.

"What is it? What did you find?" Major Hailey craned her neck from the copilot's seat.

"Goa'uld ship. By the looks of it a big one. Maybe Apophis class."

The looks of alarm on the Tau'ri officers were met by blank looks from the rest of the Raptor's passengers.

"Get us out of here." Major Hailey turned to Racetrack. "Now!"

"Right. Drives are spooled..." Racetrack trailed off as her eyes fell on the nav console. The nav console that had lines of static on its screen.

"No, no. Gods, not now." Racetrack prayed as she pushed several buttons on the console to no avail. Finally she just balled her hand into a fist and thumped the bottom on the console. "Frak!"

"That's not a good sign is it?" Major Hailey muttered as she watched Racetrack push yet another button and hold it down until the screen cleared completely. Once Racetrack released it, lines started scrolling on the screen once more.

"I'll need a few minutes to recover the last coordinates from the archive and recalculate the jump." Racetrack gritted as she stabbed at the console. That was when the DRADIS console pinged.

"DRADIS contacts! Fighters approaching at high speed!" Skulls called out.

"Come on, come on..." Racetrack muttered as the nav computer finished rebooting.

_"Attention unidentified craft, you have entered a restricted area. You will power down your systems and await landing instructions."_

"Like hell!" Racetrack yelled as she gripped the Raptor's controls. Turning the craft around, she opened up the throttle and began making for the edge of the system, jerking the stick back and forth periodically at random.

"Give me that!" Lida stepped up impatiently. Leaning over the pilot and copilot's seats, she reached for the nav console and pressed a few buttons. The screen cleared and now sported several lines, which she then started filling in with numbers.

Hailey watched, wide eyed as the Cylon manually programmed the nav computer, seemingly pulling jump coordinates from straight out of the top of her head.

"You're just gonna let her do this?" She asked Racetrack.

Racetrack just shrugged. "She's a Cylon."

"You've done this before?"

"Kinda..." Racetrack winced. Her last time following coordinates given out by a Cylon hadn't really gone over well.

Lida leaned back when she was done. "Now punch it!"

Just as time ran out.

"Missiles inbound!" Skulls called out as the DRADIS gave out a shrill tone to indicate a weapons lock.

"No more time to argue." Racetrack slapped her palm on the red button.

* * *

First Sergeant Jeff Sanderson of Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta watched as Master Sergeant Matt Eversmann crouched down and peered into the fiberscope's eyepiece. He had first met the younger man in Somalia during the infamous Black Hawk Down incident. Back then he had already been an operator, while the other was a Staff Sergeant leading his first command, a platoon sized chalk of Rangers.

They had not had much contact since then, until he had been quietly happy to learn that the younger NCO had successfully hurdled both Special Forces and Delta selection. Despite that, they had never been on an op together until now. Now, he was set to retire in a couple of months, and while he was no stranger to national secrets, it seemed the United States still had one that was quite frankly, a pleasant surprise to him.

Here he was standing in the belly of an actual freaking huge space ship! Somehow the Air Force had misplaced a couple dozen doctors, and the powers that be had decided it was a job for the Delta Force. They had originally planned on making it an all Air Force op with their own Special Tactics Teams. Except that Pope Field at the time had just happened to be playing host to a number of guests from several other CounterTerror units.

Well he was happy to oblige. Particularly when the job came with some nifty toys. The weapon cradled in his arms was a dead ringer for a classic HK MP5A3, despite being something completely _alien_. They called it an _intar _and it fired red bolts of energy. _One will shock Tango into submission, three will put him out like a light._

Eversmann held up a hand and signaled. _Two tangoes on sentry duty. _Sanderson simply nodded. That meant the other four contacts shown on the PDA strapped to the inside of his arm was behind the hatch the two were guarding. Along with six of the missing doctors and nurses.

The PDA was another piece of equipment Homeworld Command had loaned out for this op. He did not want to know how, but somehow, every colonial was emitting a signal that let the PDA display where they were and in what numbers. Same for the missing people. He had been told they were actually being picked up by signal boosters that they had "covertly planted" all over the ship, again by means he did not want to know about, and the information then relayed to the PDA's.

The display itself was a bit hazy, and contacts could be off by almost a meter or so. Apparently it was why the 304's had not been able to just beam the missing people out, he had been told it was something in these walls preventing them from locking on. Alternatively it could also be radiation bleed off from the Galactica's fusion arrays, or the high amounts of that exotic fuel the Colonials used exclusively being stored in these and adjoining decks. Whatever the actual reason, they had to get a signal booster in the same room in order to get beam transporter locks. Eversmann had one on him right now.

"This is Scalpel One, we are in position. Six packages confirmed. I repeat, six packages confirmed." He sub-vocalized, the microphone in his neckband picking it up and processing it so it could be broadcast intelligibly.

He listened as the other Scalpel units checked in as well mentally counting off the packages. Tim Wilkinson was in one. He had also met the man in Somalia. Already an Air Force Pararescueman at the time, he had been reassigned shortly after to the Stargate Command, before rotating back to the Special Tactics Teams. The British Special Boat Service was the third contributor to this operation with a buddy pair of their own. Apparently they had a starship of their own and wanted to build the experience. All in all ten men were arranged into five buddy pairs. Him and Eversmann were the only ones from Delta, the rest were all Air Force.

All packages were confirmed. That meant the mission was a go.

"This is Colonel Davis. All Hammer units execute!"

Hammer was one half of the two stage operation plan. It involved SG and Marine units storming the Sons of Ares enclaves and pinning them down so that they were unable to reinforce those locations where the hostages were being held.

It did not take more than a few minutes for the Hammer units to report their success.

"All right, Scalpel units, your turn. Execute!"

As one, Sanderson and Eversmann peeked out the corner and opened fire, holding their weapons southpaw style. Quickly rushing towards the hatch, Sanderson shifted the intar to his right hand while Eversmann unpinned a flash grenade. Sanderson pulled the hatch open just wide enough for the younger operator to toss the flashbang in. After the muffled bang rang out, he pulled it open wide, dropping down to one knee for balance and crouching to present a smaller target.

With his weapon now in his right hand, he had to expose himself, but the additional accuracy and precision was an acceptable trade off. He need not have worried. Eversmann had already tagged three of the tangoes in the room by the time he had his gun up, leaving him with the last one. Somehow the last one had managed to crouch behind a hostage using him as a human shield.

Three red bolts spat out to hit the tango's exposed shoulder, paralyzing the arm and the hand holding the gun, before sending him into unconsciousness. He sent another three into the tango's head as he dropped down, just for good measure.

"Clear!" Both operators called out. It had been less than a minute after receiving the go signal.

"Doctor DeVal! Doctor DeVal! We're US Special Forces. Are you hurt or injured?" He grabbed the french doctor with both hands, willing him to calm down while Eversmann stood guard. After what seemed like an eternity the wild look in his eyes subsided somewhat and Sanderson's questions sank in. He nodded in recognition before shaking his head.

"Are any of your people injured?" Again the doctor shook his head.

"Odyssey, this is Scalpel One, all packages secured and ready for transport."

* * *

"How big is it?" The President frowned. "It looks like these smaller ones are using it as a base of sorts."

They had all retired to the Situation Room to debrief the pilots. Nevertheless, the idea of an unknown military force using the planet as a hideout, as well as the amount of radiation, had the president on edge.

"At the range we scanned it, it could be as long as three and a half clicks on the long side." Racetrack pointed out, her voice tinged with concern and more than a hint of fear.

"Almost twice the length of the Pegasus!" D'Anna exclaimed, aghast.

"That would fit." Major Hailey agreed. "These smaller ones are about half the Galactica's length each."

"Judging by these images, it looks like there could be as many as two dozen of these smaller ships, plus that big one." Sonja observed. A Six, she was elected by the Cylons to stand in for Natalie until she was better.

"That's the single largest concentration of such ships we've seen since the fall of the Goa'uld empire." Colonel Erin Gant muttered.

"You know who these people are?" The President all but demanded of the gathered Tau'ri leaders, gesturing at the sheaf of printed images.

"No we don't." Colonel Davis shook his head. "Not for sure, anyway."

"We know who first introduced the design. But the original creators are gone, their ships divided up among several organizations in the galaxy today. We are reaching out to our allies to try and determine who these are." Colonel Gant spoke placatingly.

"Do you know for sure if this is Earth?" The President asked once more. This time visibly showing a hint of anxiety. Racetrack and Skulls just shared a look.

"We won't know for sure until we can scan and investigate up close. We're all just following the clues, same as you are." Colonel Davis replied gently.

"I doubt they're friendly." Skulls blurted out and flinched at the attention his words garnered. "I mean they fired upon us!"

The marine guard chose that exact moment to announce Admiral Adama's presence.

"Dad!"Lee Adama cried out, rushing towards his father. "What are you doing? You should be resting!"

The Admiral simply waved his son off. "I've rested all I can. Are those the images from the recon flight?"

"Yes they are." The President nodded, "but Bill..."

Admiral Adama simply nodded as the President trailed off, quietly examining the images. He stopped at the image of the alien craft holding station in the planet's upper atmosphere, his expression unreadable.

"Madame President, everyone, I would like to invite you all to my personal quarters where we can continue this discussion in private."

The President was visibly surprised, wondering what the Admiral had on his mind. The gathered Tau'ri and Cylon commanders simply shared curious looks before agreeing to his invitation.

* * *

Sitting on the camp chair, Doctor Sarah Gardner double-checked her notes as she typed up her progress report.

The last few days had been very productive. Very productive indeed. The first orbit around the planet had immediately yielded the location of the Stargate. It had been underwater, buried on a shallow shelf not far from the coast, surrounded by a circle of islets.

The Navy SEALs had relished the opportunity to dive into the waters surrounding the site, where they had found even more surprises.

Since then, it had been relocated to a stable location overlooking the coast, with a direct route to the first primary dig site, what the Colonials had termed the Opera House. She thought it was a strange name for a seat of government.

She continued working, enjoying the quiet as her staff, with the exception of those on sentry duty, turned in for the night. It had been a long day and tomorrow would likely be just as long, if not longer. It was the first night they would be spending on the surface. Previously they beamed back aboard the Proteus where they bedded down. Now with the base camp finally finished and fortified with fences and observation turrets, they could spare the Deep Space Carrier the clutter that an archaeological operation accumulated before it catalogued its findings.

She frowned as the messaging program beeped. It was a video chat invitation from Captain Hunter. His ship was still parked in geosynchronous orbit. Saving her work, she accepted, affixing a smile to her face.

"Captain Hunter, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was just wondering how you were settling in?"

"What can I say? We have power, water purifiers, even hot water in the morning." She smiled. "Your marines did an excellent job."

"Well, it was mostly engineers from SGC that did the heavy lifting. How goes the dig? Any more insight into who these Lords of Kobol are?"

"We still have to check, but the prevailing theory is that there were two groups of aliens who accomplished the feats generally attributed today to the Lords of Kobol. This will be in my report, of course. The first group of aliens, the ones that brought their ancestors here, were quite obviously, the Goa'uld."

"I saw the report." Captain Hunter smiled. "The islets surrounding the Stargate's original location were actually landing platforms."

"Badly eroded ones, yes." Sarah agreed. "The SEALs were even able to find stelae identifying who built them. Some noteworthy names include Pelops, Nirrti, Yu, Ares, Athena, and several others."

"Any idea what for?" The former submariner wondered. "There isn't anything on this planet of interest to the Goa'uld. No Naquadah, no Trinium."

"I can only hazard a guess, but Nirrti and Pelops in particular were always interested in the path that the future evolution of humanity would take. And the planet is rather isolated. So, I can only assume it was related to that. More diving will probably have to be done, which I've no doubt the SEALs will enjoy, though not until we can spare more people to assist them."

"That's your area of expertise, I guess." Captain Hunter conceded. "What about the second group?"

"Now that's the larger puzzle. From what we can tell they just appeared around the time of the Exodus. We don't have anything on them, but I'm betting they helped build the ships the original Kobolians left in."

"After the impact event, right?" He continued as she nodded. "I'm sitting in orbit and the impact crater's pretty obvious from here. The planet was hit by an asteroid. It triggered a mass extinction event. Tidal waves wiped out the coastal populations and most of the industry. I'm guessing the survivors weren't in any condition to plan and execute the Exodus even if they wanted to."

"No, like us, it seems a lot of their industry and cities were built along the coastline." She smiled sadly. "Beyond that, we can only hope to uncover more clues for now."

Captain Hunter nodded and then paused, causing the archeologist to frown a bit at the sudden shift in tone. "Listen, we just heard from the Hammond and the Odyssey. They have notified us of a developing situation, and we may be called away at a moment's notice."

Doctor Gardner nodded as she considered how this would affect her dig. "If you must go, then you must go. They wouldn't call more ships unless they absolutely needed it."

"Thank you for understanding. I can leave you the marines and the SEALs to help out. The vehicles too."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem." Sarah smiled. "We have a good location here. High ground, clear line of sight to both the dig site and the Stargate, with easily defensible approaches. We should be fine on our own for a few days."

* * *

The Commander motioned them all to the sitting area as they filed in after him. "Please, have a seat."

The President led everybody to the couch, the gathered Tau'ri looking around with interest. The three Tau'ri colonels, along with the Cylons Deanna, John and Sonja, all sat down next to her while the junior officers, those who had been on the reconnaissance mission, remained standing.

"What's on your mind Bill?" President Roslin asked once more as the leader of the Colonial military rummaged in his office a bit, before walking back towards them, a book in his hand, fingers leafing between pages.

Drawing a deep breath he placed the book on the sitting table, and laid it open at a specific page. Laura Roslin frowned. A glimpse at the cover had told her it was one of those publications that occasionally came out, trying to inject science and deductive reasoning into understanding the Sacred Scrolls. All thought fled though, when she realized what was in the page the Admiral had marked.

It was an artist's depiction of one of the Galleons that brought the original tribes of Kobol to the colonies, pieced together from various clues scattered all throughout the Scrolls. It was in the shape of a slightly flattened three-sided pyramid.

* * *

The woman picked at the bowl before her. It was some sort of stew, with nuts, beans and ground meat mixed in. No doubt nutritious, at least the meat seemed to be real, which at least ranked it ahead of processed algae. She had a couple of hours to kill. Jemmy was still in the creche, and they had taken over feeding the kids in their care. They at least got real food, while the adults here in the cafeteria got served _this_.

For a while, they had gotten real food, too. Steaks, pot roasts, all manner of ways to cook food that had not been seen since before the Fall. Until the Sons of Ares decided to get stupid. Now everybody was being punished for the actions of a small few by having to eat food that was as drab as the uniforms of the marines that served it.

At least they had not gotten away with it. If the forced unobtrusiveness she was seeing from well known members was any indication. They were not throwing their weight around any more. Scuttlebutt was that somebody had paid a visit and taken their guns from them. Served them right. Now they were on tip toes in case somebody decided to extract payback for some past offense. By the looks of it, the marines would let them get it too.

_Gianna_

Almost two years now and she still missed him terribly. The way her name rolled off his tongue, the way he would look at her like she was the most beautiful thing in all of creation. It just was not fair. He had killed himself rather than endanger everyone. Endanger her and Jemmy. She wanted desperately to believe that. Even if he had survived, the Cylons all said his kind was on the other side of the civil war, now.

She must be missing him more than usual, if the sound of his voice seemed so real.

She stopped. Why was everyone staring at her? Her heart almost stopped, as she realized they were not staring at her. They were staring at something _behind_ her. With mounting dread, she turned, slowly, drawing out the moment for as long as possible.

He was there. Looking at her that way only he could. He was flanked by two other males, she noted absently. Cylons, a Two and a Five, both looking uneasy at all the attention. This could not be real. Her knees simply lost all feeling and her chair tumbled to the floor, but she did not fall.

He was there, arms around her. Somebody was clapping. She did not care any more. She just closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest, tears in her eyes.

* * *

Colonel Paul Davis was in his quarters reading when the Ha'tak was detected approaching at high speed over hyperspace. Operation Hammer Scalpel had gone without a hitch. All the prep work they had done, all the intelligence gathering had paid off. As did the rather questionable decisions to spike the Colonials' food with Nanites on one hand, and plant signal boosters all over the Galactica's lower decks on the other.

The Nanites were the easy part. All they had to do was add it into the food the marines were serving up. They were fairly inert, and would pass through the human body in a few days through the usual means. While inside the human body however, they broadcast a weak signal very similar to that used by the subcutaneous locators on SGC personnel. The signal boosters had taken more finesse. They did not know enough of the lower decks' lay out, and having their people wandering around downstairs was not only suspicious but likely dangerous as well. In the end they had sent small robots jury-rigged from remote controlled toy cars. The men had joked around, calling it the mini-MALP because it was outfitted similarly with a small camera on an articulated mount and a manipulator arm. Yet it had been wildly successful.

Aside from the AAR's, there was also Doctor Gardner's report, which he would have to worry about at a later time. Putting the tablet down, he made his way to the bridge. Colonel Gant was already sitting on her command chair when he arrived. He got there just as the sensor officer announced the Ha'tak's arrival and its crew as the Hak'tyl. The Ha'tak was hailing them and he gave permission to respond as he turned towards the subspace communication station.

"Teal'c, Ishta," he warmly greeted the two faces that came onto the screen. Teal'c had been on leave and had opted to spend it on Dakara, familiarizing himself with the council.

"Colonel Davis, Colonel Gant, Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell." Formal as ever, Teal'c greeted each one individually with a nod. Ishta nodded along with him.

"Yo T! How goes the vacation? Welcome to our neck of the woods." Mitchell greeted his teammate enthusiastically.

"I am well, Cameron Mitchell." The former First Prime replied with a slight grin. "We bring news from the Jaffa High Council."

"What did they say?" Davis asked.

"The Council denied any knowledge of who was operating the base your warriors encountered." Ishta spoke. "Furthermore, they consider it outside the Free Jaffa Nation's sphere of influence, being located well away from Jaffa territories. They did not however, sanction any military action at this time, though they did not prohibit individual Council members from acting independently should more information be available."

"We suspect there may eventually be a battle, and have come to offer our aid." She finished.

"I see." Davis spoke hesitantly. "You know you don't have to."

"It would be our honor to offer assistance." Ishta replied smoothly. "Besides, if it were not for the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra we wouldn't even have a ship."

It was true. While the Free Jaffa's military assets were now under the direct control of the Council through an appointed Marshal, it was not always so. Originally each Council faction controlled its own military assets inherited from their previous Goa'uld overlords. That made military assets directly translatable into political influence. Even now, individual Council members were allowed to retain a small fleet, a Ha'tak or two plus a number of support vessels, for their own use.

As a purely ground based guerilla movement, the Hak'tyl had not even come close to owning any spacegoing assets. Coupled with their all female membership, it meant they ranked very low in the traditionally patriarchal Jaffa Council's pecking order. Unwilling to see one of their most reliable allies in such a disadvantaged position, the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra decided to do something about it. Pooling their resources, they refurbished and repaired a number of ships adrift from the battle of Dakara. It was not quite enough to outstrip the most powerful of the old Council's members, but it at least allowed the Hak'tyl to speak with some weight.

"Then we are very honored." Sam smiled.

"What news from the Tok'ra?" Teal'c asked.

"They haven't gotten back to us yet." Colonel Davis shook his head as Teal'c and Ishta nodded. Despite the often fractious relationship between the Jaffa and the Tok'ra, the former had learned to never doubt the latter's intelligence gathering capabilities.

"So, feel free to stick around. The Colonials are understandably jumpy, so warn us before you do anything." Cam drawled. He was about to say more but the sensor officer interrupted him.

"Incoming hyperspace contact!" The sensor officer suddenly barked.

"Who is it?" Colonel Davis asked.

"Does not match any currently known vessel." The Odyssey's sensor officer shook his head. "ETA 30 seconds."

"Go to Yellow Alert." Colonel Gant ordered.

On the communication screen, Ishta was ordering her own crew to alert as well.

"We are now detecting it as well." Teal'c stated, all signs of levity gone.

The hyperspace window opened, and the unknown ship emerged. The design lineage could be identified by the small pyramid perched on the ship's superstructure. It seemed to resemble a Ha'tak somewhat but was significantly smaller. In addition, the pyramid's shape, indeed the entire ship's shape seemed to have been stretched at one corner to form an arrowhead shape.

"It's broadcasting a Tok'ra IFF!" The sensor officer called out, and a palpable sense of relief rolled through the bridge as Colonel Gant stood down the alert. Teal'c kept facing the screen, though. Scrutinizing his own display, Paul assumed.

It was some moments before he spoke, frowning.

"It resembles a Star Destroyer."


End file.
